


I'm Fine

by 0KKULTiC



Series: Stories From Newvoice Bakery [2]
Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: (the 0.5 is Seungsik because occasionally he likes to play mom), Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Fluff, Hanse Centric, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Use, Implied/Referenced Misdemeanors, In which Hanse decides Jung Subin needs 5.5 bad influences in his life, M/M, Slice of Life, Small Towns, Takes place after the events of Unbelievable, light cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-02 06:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16299614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/pseuds/0KKULTiC
Summary: That Jung Subin kid has always fascinated the Newvoice crew. Hanse takes a chance and decides to invite him to hang out one day. They're all surprised when the rich kid actually accepts, and Hanse's ready to show the kid how bad decisions can lead to a good time. In the meanwhile, they notice that Seungsik seems to be drawn to that new guy in town...





	1. Chapter 1

Sunlight shines down brightly on Do Hanse’s corner of the world. A gentle breeze stops the sun from nearly baking him alive which excites him. He doesn’t mind biking much but prefers to do so without feeling like he’s going to die. Early afternoon means it’s time for one thing: picking up deliveries from Newvoice.

 

Hanse legitimately feels like he owes Seungsik his life. While the work is very physical, biking around cookies and cakes beats some part-time gig at a grocery store or something. It assures his mom that he’s not being lazy over break and gives him an excuse to shovel sweets down his mouth daily. He runs into Chan every other day and has an excuse to bother his other friends constantly. Life’s good. 

 

The ride from his mom’s isn’t far, and he finds himself at the edge of the square in minutes.  _ I wonder if Dr. Seungsik made any more monstrous creations… _ Hanse muses as he closes in on Newvoice.

 

Early afternoon is - of course - a slow time for them. People at work, cram school, and summer camps haven’t gotten out yet. Most of the retired folk have, well, retired back to their homes after the exploits of the morning ( _ since they’re all usually up at, like, five _ ). Seungsik usually does his books, Sejun finishes up his confections, and Byungchan comes it at some point. And, most importantly, the dutiful delivery boy makes his much awaited arrival.

 

Hanse swears he can hear them all clamoring to the door with bated breath as he props his bike on its kickstand.

 

“Sorry, ‘soundcloud rappers anonymous’ is the next door down,” Seungsik greets Hanse first, not even looking up from his laptop.

 

“Actually I came by hoping you would by my sponsor,” Hanse joked back as he strode in through the door. Newvoice’s telltale bell rings with his entrance. Seungsik snorts, and Hanse can’t help but titter himself - partly because of the mental image, partly because the baker has a contagious laugh. 

 

“Oh,” Sejun emerges from the back, placing a freshly frosted cake on the cashwrap. “He’s here.”

 

Seungsik pulls a faux sour face and nods, “Yeah.  _ Again _ .”

 

“He keeps doing that- you keep doing that,” Sejun asks, looking pointedly at Hanse.

 

“God, now that you mention it…” Hanse dramatically strokes his chin in thought, “That’s so weird. And you, like, pay me, too.”

 

“ _ Wild _ ,” Seungsik agrees facetiously.

 

“Wait, he pays you,  _ too _ ?” Sejun asks in fake shock.

 

“He pays you  _ and  _ me? I knew it!” Hanse pounds a fist in his palm, “He pays us all to be his friends. What have you to say for yourself?”

 

The head baker laughs, “You got me.”

 

“I knew it. Nobody would be friends with this freak otherwise!” Hanse says, pointing at Seungsik.

 

“Yes, I - of all three of us - am the weird one here,” Seungsik says, continuing to work on his laptop.

 

“Ring! Ring!”

 

Newvoice’s bell sounds out and the aura of joking completely dissipates. Hanse steps aside and Sejun bows, greeting the entrant.

 

“Welcome to Newvoice Bakery!” “Welcome to Newvoice!”

 

The two stand upright, but when they see who’d come in, their shoulders sag with a bit of relief.

 

“Subin!” Hanse greets their regular customer first. “What’s up dude?” Sejun nods politely to their regular and moves to grab his usual order.

 

Ever since the kid’s outer shell cracked the week before, Hanse (and the others) had decided to be a bit more bold. No longer did Jung Subin inspire awe and reverence in the Newvoice employ. Instead he garnered something better: fascination. The kid surprises them on the regular. He laughs easily and, despite his appearance, he’s pretty impish. They had been right about one thing though: Subin is the devil - sort of. He definitely has a mischievous streak. They’ve yet to fully unlock it, but Hanse’s got a hunch they’ll see it soon.

 

“Cram school,” Subin huffs, plopping down at the table adjacent to Seungsik’s. “What’s the point of a summer break if you’re just gonna do more school?” He pouts and it’s pretty adorable.

 

Hanse shrugs, “I don’t know, man. To be honest I was never huge on being in the classroom. I’m more of a doer.”

 

“Shocking,” Subin says flatly. Seungsik snorts from beside the younger boy.  _ Yup, Subin definitely doesn’t miss a beat _ , Hanse thinks.

 

“Doesn’t your family ever go on vacations or anything?” Hanse asks, quirking an eyebrow.

 

Subin shrugs, “I mean, if we’re lucky we get to tag along when my dad’s travelling for meetings. Otherwise he’s too busy working.”

 

“Hm,” Hanse grunts. Subin continues to surprise him. He had always figured the kid lived some glam life with yachts and pools. Turns out: the more he learns about Subin, the more normal his life seems to be. He’s got the same shackles from school that everyone else his age does. Sure, his driver takes him there in an air-conditioned, luxury vehicle but he studies all the same! His clothes are expensive but not  _ too  _ outrageous, and his eating habits are no better or richer than Hanse’s.

 

“Yeah. Summer’s not exactly an exciting time,” Subin says. At that moment Sejun returns with Subin’s regular pastry (buttermilk biscuit with Grandma Kang’s housemade jam) and a coffee (with cream and sugar). “Thanks,” He mutters to Sejun.

 

“Ring! Ring!”

 

“Hey guys!” Chan’s chipper voice echoes out from the swinging door. “Whoa, Hanse’s here already, too? What- what time is it?” He chuckles.

 

“Clunk.”

 

Before Hanse can greet Chan, his partner in crime, the thudding noise calls his attention. Seungsik lightly bops his head against his table for a few moments before looking up again. He’s greeted by Hanse’s, Chan’s, Sejun’s, and even Subin’s wide, confused eyes.

 

“Oh- are we done feigning ignorance now?” Seungsik glares pointedly at Chan.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” The other chuckles nervously. “I was on break.”

 

_ Typical Chan _ , Hanse laughs inwardly. Chan’s actually a really hard worker. When he wants to be; however, the guy always conveniently finds a way to slip out when Newvoice is at it’s noisiest (that is, when the squad is all present). Hanse respects the man’s dedication to the semi-daily banter. Whether Seungsik acknowledges it or not, the delivery boy thinks it’s a great boost to employee morale. Or at least his. Who wouldn’t be cheered up by seeing Heo Chan?

 

“Okay- you know what, I’m ignoring you all now,” Seungsik replies, shaking his head. He looks intensely at his laptop like it’s a magic mirror ready to tell him the lottery numbers. 

 

Hanse shrugs it off, moving on and turning to Sejun behind the pastry case, “What all am I delivering today?”

 

“Hm…” Sejun withdraws a slip of paper from his apron pocket, “This cake here and the cookies for the Healing Center. So, basically another quiet day. Oh- Thursday’s gonna be a bit crazy, though. A couple of birthdays and some corporate party, I guess. You’ll probably need to do a couple of trips for that.”

 

“Oh boy. Can’t be helped I guess. Keeps my legs lean and beautiful,” Hanse lifts his leg up provocatively.

 

“Please, put that down. You’re going to upset the customers,” Sejun jokes.

 

“What customers?”

 

“Hey! I’m a customer,” Subin cuts in.

 

Chan begins, “I’m technically a-”

 

“No.” “No.” “Don’t even try.” Seungsik, Sejun, and Hanse all interject before Chan can even finish speaking.

 

“Okay.  _ Wow _ ,” Chan gasps dramatically.

 

“Wait- You go to the Healing Center?” Subin asks out of nowhere.

 

Hanse raises his eyebrows, “Uh, yeah. Why? You know someone there?”

 

“Well, my grandparents go there like all the time. And my sister went there, too- after some injury she got playing soccer. I just- You know my house is down the hill from there?”

 

“It is?” Hanse wracks his brain for any memory of it. There’s a lot of houses on the route there, but eventually they kind of thin out until it’s mostly trees. Then again, there are a few little streets that he’s never been down.

 

“Yeah, it’s super close, like- You know if you’re leaving there’s a little gravel drive on the right side?”

 

“Hm… Oh! Oh yeah! I thought that just dead-ended in the woods. It’s really narrow, I thought maybe only utility trucks or something went back there.”

 

Subin shakes his head, “Nope. That eventually leads to my driveway. It’s like a kilometer and a half out, though.”

 

“So it’s way back in the woods.”

 

“Yup! It’s really far away from any of the main thoroughfare. It’s super quiet.”

 

“I bet.”

 

“The perfect place to commit a crime.”

 

“Thanks, Subin.”

 

“Or hide a body,” The kid grins widely and it’s mildly terrifying. But, like, also: super cute!

 

“Yup, got it,” Hanse laughs.

 

“Hanse, I know what we’re doing this weekend,” Chan elbows the other beside him.

 

“We need a target first.”

 

“Guys, if you’re gonna contemplate murder can you please do it elsewhere?” Seungsik - despite his insistence that he’d ignore the others - pops in. “Homicide is bad for business.”

 

“Ring! Ring! Ding!”

 

Newvoice’s doorbell tolls once more, and talk of murder momentarily ceases. With it, in comes the tall, stately form of Byungchan. 

 

“Oh boy,” the head baker mutters.

 

“Byungchan!” Hanse exclaims. “You’re kinda early! Whoa-“ He glances around. “Everyone’s here.”

 

“Yeah you’re kind of crowding the place,” Seungsik mutters, pursing his lips. “All these people yet only one of them a paying customer. The rest…” He scrutinizes all of the others with a raised eyebrow, “Wasting space.”

 

“Hey, I work here!” Sejun says.

 

“Yeah, me too! Is this the thanks I get for being early?” Byungchan adds.

 

”I work here, too!” Hanse crosses his arms.

 

All eyes go to Chan. He scans the Newvoice workforce (and Subin) sheepishly. 

 

“I- uh- had something to say!” Chan stutters out. The words have the opposite of the desired effect. Instead of disarming everyone’s suspicions, it makes everyone’s gazes bore into him more. “T-to Hanse.” Chan finishes.

 

“You did?” Hanse asks. “Well… say it.” The good people of Newvoice go silent to let him answer.

 

“It’s- it’s not some big announcement guys,” Red starts creeping onto Chan’s cheeks and his pupils start dancing around. Apparently, Seungsik is satisfied with the inflicted embarrassment; he chuckles quietly and goes back to his work. In his stead, the others return to their own devices. Byungchan and Sejun disappear into the back, and Subin continues picking at his pastry.

 

Hanse quirks an eyebrow and pulls Chan slightly aside. He taps his toe and smirks.

 

“Wh-What?” Chan asks with a laugh.

 

“I should be asking the questions here,” The delivery boy jabs the delinquent restaurant worker in the side.

 

“H-hey!” Chan jolts back, covering his side. 

 

“What did you need to ask so urgently?” Hanse does it again, going for the exposed side. “Hm? What’s so urgent you have to interrupt my workday?” His fingers prod one of Chan’s pecs, “Huh? Huh?”

 

“Stop it,” Chan groans (though he’s smiling). He tries to bat the other’s hands away. His efforts are futile, but Hanse notes that they’re full of spirit and gives him an A for effort.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Okay f-fine, I just- I wanted to know if,” Chan lowers his voice, “I just wanted to know if you wanted to go to the quarry on Saturday or something. It’s starting to get really damn hot out. I just didn’t want to announce it all loud ‘cause it’s not very important.”

 

“Dude! That’s a great idea!” Hanse’s face lights up and he claps Chan on the shoulder, “We can all go. Draw first blood on the quarry- wait, Seungsik, though-”

 

“That’s fine,” Chan cuts in. “I mean- he can join us later. He doesn’t have to work weekends, does he?”

 

“No, but he always does.”

 

“Well, maybe we can convince him, then.”

 

“Cool, yeah. It’s a plan then,” Hanse nods enthusiastically, flashing a grin. 

 

“Okay, see you then,” Chan turns to the others, waving, “Alright, I’m out. Peace!”

 

“Wh- Okay. Bye, Chan,” Seungsik waves confusedly.

 

“Buh-bye!” Subin calls after him.

 

“Ring. Ring.” The bells ring with Chan’s departure.

 

“What was he doing this time?” Byungchan asks, emerging from the back.

 

“Who knows,” The head baker shrugs. “Hanse, what was he on about?”

 

“Hm?” Hanse responds. “Oh- He just wanted to ask something real quick about the weekend.”

 

Byungchan snickers, “You two got a hot date or something?”

 

All eyes fall on Hanse for a second; everyone looks at him like he’s going to give them some great insight to the fate of the universe. 

 

“Yeah we’re gonna have a candlelit dinner at Huh Gak’s and ride white horses into the sunset, how did you know?”

 

“We had a feeling,” Byungchan replies frankly.

 

“Haha, very funny,” For some reason, people like to joke about him and Chan being a couple. Apparently, having a best friend is weird or something. Hanse just thinks they’re savages who are jealous that he’s found a kindred soul. Regardless, looking at Subin, he thinks it’d be awkward to talk about plans he’s not involved in. So, Hanse chooses to cut it where it is. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

Byungchan quirks an eyebrow mouthing out an “okay” before pacing back to the kitchen. Hanse can still feel Seungsik’s eyes on him which is weird. If the baker wants to say something, he doesn’t. Subin seems content to stay quiet, too. Hanse scrolls on his phone while waiting for the last of the deliveries to be put together.

 

“Hey,” Sejun’s voice rings out from the silence. “Here are the cookies.”

 

“Cool, thanks!” Hanse replies. With that, he’s off. He grabs his parcels and steps outside. After packing them carefully in the cooler tethered to his bike, he pedals away. Chan was right: it is starting to get hot, and there’s nothing quite like a swim to cool off when the weather starts to get sticky. Hanse’s head whirs contentedly with thoughts of music and swimming as the summer sun beats down on his back. He rides along at a steady pace, excited for what the summer’s got in store.

 

* * *

 

“Whish.” 

 

Sunrise Healing Center’s automatic door open, and a puff of air conditioning hits Hanse. He spreads his arms wide open, letting the cool sensation wash over his body. From one hand dangles a parcel neatly tied with twine.

 

“-ave a nice day!” Chorong calls out by the reception desk. She must have just finished with the departing patient. A patient waves farewell, passing Hanse on his way out. “Oh, Newvoice!” She claps giddily.

 

“Hi, Miss Chorong,” Hanse says. “Your usual!” He presents the box of four dozen cookies with a flare. Apparently, Newvoice and the Sunrise Center have some ages old contract together. Monday through Friday, Sunrise receive four dozen cookies. Some are set aside for the staff, but the majority of them are for patients. Hanse can see the benefit of a sweet incentive. He’d probably go to the doctor way more often if it promised free food. Someone used to pick them up every morning before stopping by the Center, but when Seungsik had enlisted Hanse as a delivery boy, Sunrise became his first regular fixture in his route.

 

Sunlight floods into the Healing Center’s large windows, filling the place with an almost ethereal aura. It never fails to awe Hanse how somewhere so nice exists in his crappy home town. 

 

“Here, I’ll take that,” Chorong stands up. Hanse approaches the reception desk and extends the package to her. “Thank you.”

 

“And, as usual,” Hanse reaches into his pants pocket to grab a receipt, “This one’s yours, please sign mine…” The assistant does just as she’s told. She scribbles a signature on the receipt before handing it back to the delivery boy.

 

Hanse gives her another courteous smile, “Alright, have a good-”

 

“Wait!” Chorong holds a finger up. She runs to the reception desk and digs through a drawer momentarily before withdrawing a five thousand won bill. “For you.”

 

“Huh? Wh- I don’t need that,” He waves his hand sheepishly. The bill looks so, so tempting, but he feels guilty accepting a tip for just doing his job.

 

“Come on, you work very hard. You’re punctual and come by every day with a smile, through hot sun and rain. Take it! It’s from all of us.”

 

“I really can’t,” Hanse shakes his head.  _ Even though I really want to _ , he thinks.

 

Chorong pouts and puts her hands on her hips obstinately, “You either take it or I make you take it! I have a black belt, you know.” She threatens.

 

“B-but I-” The aid slaps the bill onto Hanse’s chest. He chuckles, defeated, and fumbles to catch the bill before it drifts to the ground.

 

“O-o-okay, I guess I-”

 

“Now get out of my sight,” The therapist jokes. 

 

“Y-yes ma’am,” Hanse obliges. He waves goodbye and says a few more words of parting before disappearing out the sliding doors. His bike is just a few steps away, and in one swift motion he mounts it and goes.

 

The soft breeze that runs through his hair is very welcome as he rides down the hill that Sunrise sits on top of. Taking a deep breath, Hanse smells grass clippings and wet asphalt.  After the past week’s on and off downpour, humidity still lingered in the air. Work isn’t quite out for most people, so the street is empty as he pedals down it.

 

Suddenly, he notices something. The once unassuming gravel drive takes his interest. It’s hardly noticeable with the tall trees surrounding it. He’d always thought the drive leads to nowhere. Turns out one Jung Subin is at the end of that long, winding path. He had only dreamed of what the kid’s house looked like. Is it made of wood? Stone? Are there columns? And basketball courts? A pool? A twenty car garage?!

 

Passing Subin’s place makes Hanse wonder about him. He’s never seen the kid with any friends. He hadn’t even seen the guy talk until just over a week before.

 

_ I wonder… If Jung Subin has ever been swimming in a quarry? _

 

* * *

 

“Oh. ‘Sup, Chan?” Hanse greets the restaurant worker as he strides into Newvoice. Another day, another dollar, and another set of deliveries.

 

“Not much just… Not dicking around on the clock,” Chan replies, a smile crossing his face.

 

“You? Neglecting your job? Never,” Hanse snarks. He turns to Seungsik who’s at his usual afternoon post: the frontmost table with his laptop. “Hey boss. How’s today looking?”

 

Seungsik doesn’t answer. Instead, he just nibbles on his pen mindlessly, staring at his screen. The more Hanse scrutinizes the other, the more he realizes that Seungsik isn’t really working on his laptop. It’s more like he’s gazing in the general direction of the screen. 

 

“Uh, boss?” Hanse says again.

 

Still nothing.

 

“Earth to Seungsik!” Hanse hollers.

 

“Hm?” The head baker wakes up from his daze nonchalantly. 

 

“I asked how the day was, but… You okay, dude?”

 

“What? Nothing. I mean-” Seungsik shakes his head. “What’s up?”

 

“Uh,” Hanse’s eyes widen. “What’s up with you? Something bothering you?”

 

“No, nothing,” Seungsik pouts slightly. “Just lots of- of stuff. Sejun should be finished with deliveries in a few.” He nods behind the pastry case toward the patissier before going back to his laptop screen without another word.

 

_ Okay. Weird _ , Hanse’s nose scrunches. Maybe Sejun knows what’s up.

  
Chan follows Hanse behind the case, and the two are greeted by the raising a familiar, notched brow.

 

“Hanse. Chan,” He greets the pair curtly. 

 

“Sejun,” Hanse mimics the other.

 

“Hanse,” Chan chimes in.

 

“Chan.”

 

“Sejun-”

 

“Alright I’m stopping this before it escalates,” Sejun asserts more loudly than the others.

 

“Good call, good call,” Hanse nods. For a second, he forgets what he’d been doing there. Then he remembers that he works there. Also that Seungsik’s acting like a freak. “So… Why’s our boss daydreaming? Did he have another episode last night or…?”

 

Sejun leans in, lowering his voice, “Look, the truth is… Something weird’s been going on.”

 

Chan and Hanse exchange curious expressions. If Sejun didn’t have their attention before, he definitely has it now. 

 

“Weird like… Drugs weird?” Chan asks.

 

“Wh- No! Jesus,” Sejun smacks him. “Okay, well- you can’t say anything to Seungsik about this, okay? Anything. I mean- he can’t know I’m telling you, okay?”

 

“Uh, okay.” “Yeah.” The other two oblige, ten times more intrigued.

 

“Right, well…” Sejun bites his lip like he’s about to pass on some national secret. “Seungsik started acting weird like a week ago. Thought he got a new video game or something…”

 

“Weird how?” Hanse asks.

 

“Like- I dunno. Cheery. Spacy? Like… Like he’d get really distracted just looking out the window and in the morning he insists on manning front of house. Like- I thought maybe something was up and he wanted to distract himself from it with work. I dunno,” Sejun says with pursed lips. 

 

“Is he okay?” A look of concern paints itself across Chan’s face.

 

“Trust me, he is just swell,” The remark from Sejun only further fuels the others’ curiosity.

 

“Well, then what the heck is it?” Hanse demands. He’s over the suspense. Seungsik had seemed pretty normal to him, but the delivery boy was typically in and out.  They hadn’t hung out in a while, either. Aside from gaming a few nights a week, Hanse doesn’t hear a ton from the guy otherwise. Seungsik’s not the type to dish about his personal junk anyways - at least, not to the younger guys.

 

Sejun takes a deep breath before continuing, “You remember that, uh, that customer from before?”

 

Hanse rolls his eyes, “Yes, Sejun. I, the delivery boy and he - the guy who doesn’t even work here - know the customer to whom you are vaguely referring to.”

 

“Ugh- You know, the um- the hot one. The fitness guy.”

 

“We had a hot customer?” “Fitness guy?” Hanse and Chan blurt out together.

 

“The dick who said something rude to Seungsik and made him go on that avocado pudding bender,” Sejun answers flatly.

 

“Oh, that asshole,” Realization dawns on Hanse. “What about him? Wait- did he come around again?” The delivery boy clenches a fist, “Did he say something to Seungsik?”

 

Sejun shrugs, “Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine. I dunno what he said or did exactly, but… He has been coming around.”

 

“Wait- what?!” Outrage flares up in Hanse’s chest. Seungsik had enough crap to deal with in his life. The last thing his dear friend (and boss) needs is someone coming by to harass him. “So he’s trying to start something?”

 

“Quiet!” Sejun shoves Hanse.

 

“Hey, why do you assume it’s bad,” Chan turns to Hanse, playing the optimist to soothe him. “Maybe he had a change of heart and tried Seungsik’s sweets. I know  _ I _ would be converted by his sweet brioche buns.”

 

“Both of you are wrong,” Sejun shot the two down. “Look- At first I didn’t know who it was, but- but the guy he’s- well when I figured it out…”

 

“Just spill already!” Hanse demands. 

 

“Okay, fine,” Sejun says. The other two lean in even closer like they’re watching the climactic scene of a drama. The patissier just rolls his eyes again, “Well, once I saw him, I- I knew it was him. Seungsik was working the window and I just happened to see someone there that I didn’t recognize. He’s slender and tall and his face is like- like a model’s. Like- I dunno he just looks different. I could instantly tell he’s not from here.”

 

“Not hard considering that fact that we know everyone our age in this entire town,” Chan comments.

 

Sejun shoots him a dirty look before continuing, “Okay, well, basically I see this hot stranger and at first I don’t think anything of it. Except,” His voice gets even lower, “Then he comes again the next morning.”

 

“Wow, someone who likes coffee in the morning. He must be our guy.”

 

“Look- I made the coffee order, okay!” Sejun insists. “He takes his americano black.  _ Black _ .”

  
Chan and Hanse both gasp, scandalized. 

 

Hanse’s eyes widen with horror. _ Black? Is he insane? What kind of a sick, twisted freak takes their coffee black!? _

 

“He sounds evil. That’s gotta be our guy,” Hanse adds, nodding.

 

“So what, is he like a regular customer now?” Chan asks.

 

“I- I guess. The next day I was at the window and he showed up again. I took his order and - get this - Seungsik insisted on making the order- same thing he got the last time. Black americano. At first, I thought it was just Seungsik playing the martyr. I mean, if he wants to serve the rude customer I’m happy to let him, but… Well it’s been almost a week and every time this guy shows up, Seungsik happens to be nearby. It’s almost every morning, too.” 

  
“So… What’s he got on our baker?” Hanse wonders aloud.

 

“Oh my God- Seungsik is not being blackmailed!” Sejun scoffs. “We all know he would never do anything cool enough to be worth blackmailing him with.” The other two exchange looks of agreement.

 

“So… What is it then?” Hanse asks. 

 

“I’m sorry what part of  ‘this guy is hot’ did I not get through to you?”

 

“Yeah, okay- but he’s a jerk,” Hanse throws his hands up. “I mean, you heard how he treated Seungsik. Our boss might have the sex appeal of a panda bear, but he’s not that desperate.”

 

“I think the guy said sorry or something. I don’t know,” Sejun replies, shrugging. “They- they like chat.”

 

“Whoa,” Chan laughs. “They  _ chat _ . About what?”

 

“I- I don’t know! It’s not like they’re having deep conversations. Just… ‘How was your day’, ‘how’s your residency’ - guess he’s a med student. I dunno. It’s sort of awkward-”

 

“Seungsik is awkward, it’s a moot point,” Hanse interjects.

 

“ _ -anyways _ \- he had to have said sorry or something.”

 

Chan is definitely the most confused of the three, and his brows furrow with confusion, “So they’re… Friends?”

 

“No,” Sejun shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. All I know for sure is that Seungsik like- he always wants to be near him and- and chats him up for no reason - not like he does other customers. Like- like-”

 

“Like a guy who’s got a crush?” Chan finishes the sentence.

 

Sejun’s eyes widen and realization dawns on his face, “Yes. Yes exactly, like a guy with a crush. Ogling hot people is one thing but this is different.”

 

“Wh- No, no, no, no, no,” Hanse heartily protests. “Nuh-uh he does not have a crush on- on this dude. There’s no way.”

 

“What do you think this guy told Seungsik to make him not hate him?” Chan thinks aloud. “He was so pissed he made avocado pudding. Avocado pudding.”

 

“He must have a hell of a way with words,” Sejun answers.

 

“Maybe he’s just brainwashing him,” Hanse snarks. “Or maybe our poor baker is way thirstier than we thought.”

 

“What about a poor baker?” Seungsik’s voice rings out from behind the crouching trio. In slow motion, all three collectively feel their hearts stop. They turn to see the aforementioned baker looming over them.

 

“Nothing!” Hanse answers first. 

 

Seungsik immediately looks dubious, “Mhm.” He looks at Sejun.

 

“Wh- Why are you looking at me like that?” Sejun asks.

 

“Because you look like you have something to say.”

 

“Do I? I do? I don’t really- have something to say I mean.”

 

“Right… Well, Subin’s due in any minute, so if you could like… Not do,” Seungsik waves in the general direction of the three, “This. That’d be great.”

 

“Yeah, no that’s-” Sejun fumbles to stand up quickly, chuckling sheepishly. “We’re up. We’re up- we’re getting up. Right guys?” He quirks a notched eyebrow at the two. Hanse and Chan scramble up after him, nodding in agreement.

 

Chan is the first to make an evasive maneuver, “You know, I have to- I need to, uh…” He vaguely gestures out the back. “Eggs!” He waves and bolts out the door. 

 

“Wh-” Hanse doesn’t even have time to say anything else before Chan’s gone.

 

“Deliveries!” Sejun exclaims out of nowhere. He dashes to the kitchen without another word. That leaves Hanse alone with the head baker himself.

  
Seungsik quirks a dubious eyebrow, “O...Kay?”

 

Hanse dramatically shakes his head, looking at the kitchen, “Good help is impossible to find these days.” He pats Seungsik on the shoulder roughly before joining Sejun in the back. Anything to avoid the discerning gaze of his boss.

 

* * *

 

“Ring. Ring.”

 

Byungchan looks up from his work to flash a grin at one of Newvoice’s most valued customers, “Welcome in, Subin!” He’d stepped in just minutes before Subin.

 

“What’s up, dude?” Hanse chimes in.

 

“Hey!” Subin grins as he strides over to his usual seat.

 

“Same thing as usual?” Byungchan asks.

 

“Always,” The student replies. He whips out his phone and starts scrolling social media as Byungchan busies himself grabbing Subin’s order.

 

Hanse glances at the kid sitting at his table, minding his own business. He looks at the others milling about: Byungchan behind the counter, Sejun and Chan in the back. Suddenly, a brilliant idea blossoms in his brain.

 

_ Do Hanse, you are a genius _ , he thinks to himself.

 

“Byungchan,” Hanse whispers. He nods toward the back. Byungchan’s face scrunches in confusion and he shrugs as if to ask “what”. Hanse just nods in the direction of the kitchen again, more emphatically. Byungchan rolls his eyes, but he follows as Hanse paces into the kitchen to collect the other two.

 

“What is it?” Byungchan asks, his voice still low. Sejun and Chan are roused, too. Sejun is due to leave any second, and Hanse is in dire need of his opinion for something important. It’s an all (well, most) hands on deck necessity.

 

“Thank you all for coming,” Hanse starts, regarding everyone else in the kitchen.

 

“You are  _ so  _ welcome,” Chan responds, jokingly clenching his heart.

 

“I work here…?” Sejun says, face scrunched in confusion.

 

“Hanse are you drunk on the clock again?” Byungchan asks straight out.

 

“What?” Hanse gasps, “I can’t believe you would even say such a thing. I would never drink and drive.”

 

“Hanse you don’t drive sober. Or at all,” Sejun cuts in.

 

“He does, too!” Chan insists.

 

“Thank you, Chan,” Hanse throws his hands up.

 

“Bikes count as vehicles and - contrary to popular belief - you  _ can  _ get a DUI for operating one while drunk.”

 

“Chan!” 

 

“Learned that firsthand riding on the pegs of this one,” Chan glances pointedly at the delivery boy, “After riding back from Ong’s Halloween party.”

 

“Chan.”  _ I’m gonna kill him _ , Hanse thinks. He can feel his ears stinging, turning as red as his hair used to be.

 

“Wait,” Byungchan’s lips turn into a wide smile. Too wide. “You got a DUI?” His face appears entirely too amused for Hanse’s liking.

 

“I got a warning - for your information.  _ And  _ you guys are totally derailing this conversation! This is not about my tortured, criminal past.”

 

“Yeah- we fell into a ditch,” Chan interjects.

 

“Why would you ever let this man drive you anywhere, Chan?” Sejun asks.

 

“You know, I was in a really bad place at the time,” Chan jokingly sniffles.

 

“You poor thing.”

 

“And I just- I just needed someone-”

 

Hanse groans, “Guys!”

 

“Okay, fine!” Byungchan laughs, “Everyone shut up so Hanse can tell us… What did you wanna tell us, again?”

 

“Is this about Seungsik and the hot guy chatting?” Sejun asks, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Seungsik is chatting with a hot guy?” The afternoon worker asks.

 

“Oh right, you weren’t in that conversation-”

 

“Guys!” Hanse barks. The idiotic din dies down, and everyone finally pays attention. “Thank you.” He sees Chan open his mouth - probably to completely derail everything again. Before anyone can utter another idiotic sound, he holds a hand up to silence them. “One question guys. One. Question.”

 

Byungchan throws his hands up and his mouth opens.

 

“Ah- ah-ah!” Hanse narrows his eyes menacingly. “Okay, now that I finally have your undivided attention, I have a very important question for you all. Would you… All… Like to…” He looks around, making sure everyone’s really, truly paying attention. He takes a deep breath before finally finishing:

 

“Go swimming at the quarry on Saturday?” The collective shoulders of all present sag. Byungchan rolls his eyes, and Sejun pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

“Is that a yes?” Hanse asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

After letting his friend’s stupidity process, Byungchan answers first, “Saturday? I’m down.” He shrugs.

 

“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” Sejun remarks, “I can drive so we don’t have to worry about Hanse getting any more DUIs.”

 

“Warnings,” Hanse corrects the other. He grins and his eyes fall on Chan. “Of course, I know you’re in. It was your idea.”

 

“Uh- Yeah, right,” Chan nods. He looked kind of zoned out for a second but quickly snaps out of it. “Yeah, totally. Text the group chat a time.”

 

“Oh- One more thing,” Hanse bites his lip nervously. He glances over his shoulder at the bakery floor for a second before turning to the others again. “What if we invite him?” He nods back toward the bakery area.

 

“Seungsik?” Byungchan shakes his head, “You know he always works Saturdays. Even though he doesn’t have to. Because he’s a freak. He’ll probably skip out.”

 

“No, not him,” Hanse grins, “Subin.”

 

“Doesn’t he have like an Olympic sized pool in his backyard? Why would he wanna swim with us?” Chan asks confusedly.

 

“Well, first of all,” Hanse gestures to himself. The others blink at him confusedly for a few seconds. 

 

After silence ensues for a few more seconds, Chan’s finally the one to speak up, mentioning, “You just… You just gestured to your entire body-” 

 

“I know,” Hanse says.

 

“Guys,” Sejun raises a hand, “While I’d love to stay and chat about... Whatever this is, I’m really tired, so… I’m gonna go. Oh- I’m all for inviting that Subin kid, though. He’s cute.”

 

“Right- Yeah, see you, Sejun!” Hanse says with a wave. The others bid him farewell in a similar manner.

 

“I agree with him,” Byungchan says after the other leaves. “The kid is cute.”

 

“I still think he’s evil,” Chan says. “Cute things are always evil. Children, tiny dogs, Hanse.”

 

“Aw, you think I’m cute?” Hanse feigns immense flattery, gasping.

 

“The cutest,” Chan winks exaggeratedly.

 

“Can you two not?” Byungchan’s nose scrunches. He focuses his gaze on Hanse, “Just ask the kid already. He’s sitting right over there, and- Oh, crap! I haven’t gotten his order yet.” With that, Byungchan bolts out of the kitchen toward the pastry counter.

 

Hanse watches the other disappear and shrugs, “Right, well… I’m gonna do it.”

 

Chan’s eyes widen, “Really?”

 

“Yeah, really. What- You think he’s gonna throw his coffee at me or something?”

 

“No, I just- I dunno. Guess it just seems random,” He shrugs.

 

“Hey, you may not remember, but it was my forthright boldness that led to us being friends.”

 

“You did say ‘hi’ first, but I came up with ‘Chanse’.”

 

Hanse laughs, “Okay, I’ll give you that one.” When the laughter diminishes, he looks Chan in the eye for a second. Slowly he takes a few steps closer to the other. He lowers his voice and speaks sincerely, “Look, the truth is…”

 

“Wh-what?” Chan sputters. He looks a bit tenser than he did just a minute before. 

 

Hanse isn’t sure what’s up, but he doesn’t think much of it. Chan has moments where he gets spacey sometimes. He’s actually pretty artistic, and Hanse chalks it up to that.

 

He concedes, telling his closest friend the honest truth, “The truth is that I’ve never seen Subin come in here with anyone. Anyone. Students come here all the time with friends, but… Not him. No siblings either- even though I know he has them. I don’t think I’ve heard about his parents, either.”

 

“Hm,” Chan grunts. He nods, looking down in thought. “I guess you’re right. I’ve never seen anyone with him.”

 

“He comes in here every day. And then what? Goes home to do homework? I mean- maybe I’m reading too much into stuff, but… I think the kid is lonely. Okay, saying it out loud is kinda weird, maybe I should just-”

 

“No,” Chan scoffs, smacking Hanse lightly. “Shut up. It’s not weird, it’s awesome.” He gazes out the door, trying to find Subin. The chatter of those on the other side of the opening filters in. “Go invite that rich kid to break his first law.”

 

Hanse perks up at the joke, “You really think he’s never broken a law?”

 

“Pirating music doesn’t count. Neither does lying about your age on the internet.”

 

“You’re right,” Hanse giggles. “Jung Subin could use a few bad influences in his life.”

 

“Might as well be us,” Chan smirks.

 

“Cool. I’m gonna go ask him for his number, then,” Hanse says with finality. He leaves the kitchen with a newfound sense of purpose.

 

“I’ll see you around,” Chan calls after him. “I’m heading out.”

 

“See ya!” Hanse doesn’t bother watching the other leave. He just sees one Jung Subin sitting at his table. Half a biscuit sits on his plate and he sips contently at his coffee. Seungsik sits at the table next to his, still earnestly looking at things on his laptop.

 

“Hey idiot,” Byungchan’s voice comes out from behind the pastry case, directed at the delivery boy. “Don’t forget the reason you’re here: your job.” He points to the wrapped parcel on the cash wrap.

 

“Yeah, five seconds,” Hanse responds. He’s still got his eyes on the one customer present. “Yo, Subin!”

 

“Hm?” Subin looks up from his coffee, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

 

“Wanna go swimming Saturday?”

 

“Huh?” Subin sets his coffee down for a second. He looks confused and raises an eyebrow.

 

“You do know how to swim, right?” Hanse asks jokingly.

 

Subin snaps out of whatever daze had come over him and nods, “Yeah- yeah. I…” His lips upturn into a tiny grin and he nods. “This Saturday?”

 

“Yeah,” Hanse replies casually. “Just me and the guys- you know, the ones you see here all the time. Except for him,” He gestures to his boss, “Because he’s a party pooper.”

 

“Thanks. Not like I’m right here or anything,” Seungsik comments flatly.

 

Subin chuckles, “Sounds cool. I’m in.”

 

“Sick. Here, put your number in-” Hanse walks over to hand Subin his phone.

 

“Please do it fast,” Seungsik mutters, “So he can continue onto doing his actual job.”

 

The kid laughs, grabbing Hanse’s phone. He starts punching his number in, and Hanse smiles widely.

 

_ That was easier than I thought it’d be _ , he muses. This is gonna be fun.

 

It’d been a while since a lot of the guys had gotten together, and Hanse’s already looking forward to it. A giddy feeling bubbles up in his chest. He’s not sure whether it’s the good vibes he’s getting from Subin or just general excitement at the weather warming up. Whatever it is, Hanse’s sure about one thing:

 

He’s got a feeling this summer’s gonna be different. Good different.


	2. Chapter 2

The gentle rays of morning sunlight filter in through Newvoice’s large window. Large blocks of warmth paint themselves on every surface they can reach; they glisten off of the pastry counter and highlight the grain of the hardwood floor. French bossa nova music plays softly through the bakery’s speakers, echoing in the space.

 

Saturday mornings were always a bustling time for Newvoice. People love filtering in for a pastry after church or just because it’s their morning off. They savor their coffee instead of rushing out the door with a paper cup, and the hum of conversation buzzes replaces busy footsteps. Little pockets of laughter and joy float all around. Between them, Kang Seungsik bobs and weaves, handing out pastries and drinks.

 

“Seungsik,” His mama stands behind the pastry case, clucking her tongue, “These two lattes to table seven. Then you can go!”

 

Seungsik shakes his head, grabbing the tray with lattes on top of it, “Ha ha, very funny. Look at this place, it’s packed!”

 

Mama Kang rolls her eyes, shaking her head, “It’s been packed every Saturday morning for the past forty years. We’ve always managed fine.”

 

“Well with me around we can manage more than fine.”

 

Seungsik’s mother huffs, “What kind of boy did I raise? Your hard work makes me proud, but the last thing I need is another call from Huh Gak on the corner saying you’re passed out in the square!”

 

“Mom, that was one time!”

 

“Yeah, and you scared me! I’m old, I can’t be receiving such news at this age!” She jokes, exaggeratedly smacking his shoulder over the pastry case. “Why can’t I have a normal son who has fun with his friends and sleeps in once in awhile? Did I give birth to a grandpa?!”

 

“ _ Mom _ !” Seungsik gasps

 

“I’m serious. At this rate I’ll never see you bring a man home. You’ll be single when I die. Who will take care of you then? Who will take care of  _ me _ ?”

 

“Mother! You’re scaring me again, Dad-” Seungsik calls to the kitchen behind, “She’s scaring me again!”

 

His father’s muffled voice echoes out from the kitchen, “Honey, stop scaring our son!”

 

“No!” She hollers back.

 

“Well, son, I tried!” His dad replies. Seungsik rolls his eyes, taking the lattes to their designated table.

 

For some reason, his parents like to remind him that he’s a workaholic. Constantly. It’s not like they don’t appreciate it. At least, Seungsik is fairly certain they do. They haven’t actually kicked him out of the bakery, yet. Instead, the two exchange jabs at his social and love life. He wonders if grandma and grandpa badgered them like they do him. It seems unfair. They’d so badly wanted him to take on the family business, but when he’d thrown himself into it, suddenly it was too much? 

 

_ Parents never seem to know what they want _ , he laments internally.  _ Give them what they say they want, and they suddenly decide it’s not what they wanted from you at all! _

 

“Ring! Ring!”

 

A storm of footsteps follow the sound of the door opening and around them the sound of loud, boisterous chatter. Seungsik reflexively turns to the entrance, flashing a grin.

 

“Welcome to Newvoice Bakery,” He starts saying. His customer service visage falls when he sees who’d come in.

 

“Good morning, boys!” Mrs. Kang greets the storm of young men cheerily. In comes Hurricane Hanse, followed by Chan, Sejun, and Byungchan. The collective bark loud greetings, making the bakery even louder than it was before.

 

“Morning, Mrs. Kang!” “Hi Ms. Kang!” “Hey, mom!” “Hello, Mrs. Kang.”

 

“What are you boys up to today?” She asks, a grin on her face. The little clique had been causing trouble around Newvoice for years. Hanse still calls her “mom” even after years of her correcting him (“I’m not your mother! If your mama hears you calling me ‘mom’, she’ll scold you,” she would always say).

 

“Swimming,” Hanse answers, a wide grin on his lips.

 

“We’re here to forage for the day’s sustenance,” Sejun adds, strolling into the back.

 

“You mean you’re here to take my merchandise,” Seungsik says sarcastically, approaching the bunch.

 

Mrs. Kang laughs, looking at her (real) son pointedly, “Can I convince you guys to take him, too?”

 

“We tried,” Byungchan replies with a shrug. “I’m afraid your son is just-” He fakes a sob, “-just  _ too _ good. The prognosis looks grim.” Seungsik rolls his eyes. He glances toward the back, seeing Sejun leave with two tote bags overflowing with breads and other sweets.

 

“Wh- That’s coming out of your paycheck!” Seungsik says, eyes wide with horror.

 

His mother, on the contrary, waves dismissively, “You’re all still so skinny, take some cookies, too.” She flashes Sejun a grin.

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Kang,” Sejun answers in a singsong voice. He wiggles his notched eyebrows at Seungsik teasingly. More earnestly, he turns to his boss and friend, asking, “Wanna join us later? We can go to the corner or something.”

 

“I’ll text you,” Seungsik replies. Though he likes to help out Saturdays, he’s fine passing up Sundays; a late night doesn’t sound too bad - assuming he’s not recovering from the week’s lack of sleep. He often sets lofty goals of things to do on weekends, only to be thwarted by the inconvenient, biological need for rest.

 

“Don’t pass out and mess your sleep cycle up even more.”

 

“Hmm…” The baker makes a show of thinking it over, “Can’t make any promises. Don’t crack your skull on one of the rocks in the quarry.”

 

“Yes, mom,” Sejun chuckles, shaking his head. “To be honest I’m more worried about that Subin kid. If anything happens to him, his family can afford lawyers. Nice lawyers.”

 

“As opposed to mean ones?” Seungsik snarks.

 

Sejun shoves the other jokingly, “Shut up!” He glances over his shoulder to see Hanse, Chan, and Byungchan chattering up a storm. The volume resonating from the three of them brings the entire bakery’s noise up to a new level. “Better get them out of here before you get complaints.” He turns to Seungsik’s mom with another polite smile, “Bye, Mrs. Kang! Thanks for the sweets!”

 

“Bye, boys. Be safe. Make sure to wear sunscreen and take breaks!” She waves after them amicably before turning back to brew more coffee drinks.

 

“Don’t do anything too stupid,” Seungsik adds.

 

“Alright, come on children,” Sejun calls to the trio behind him. “You-” He pokes Seungsik on the chest, “-behave.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Seungsik replies. Hanse, Chan, and Byungchan let out a choir of goodbyes just as rambunctious as their hellos. 

  
The bakery quiets down significantly with their departure, and soon Seungsik is whisked back into work. It’s not that he doesn’t wish he could hang out with his friends. He’d love to be there, but the thought of leaving the bakery for two straight days feels blasphemous to him. Part of his soul resides in the place. Plus, he hates coming back in on Monday and seeing things moved around and in different order. It eases his mind to have his hands on everything.

 

He wipes circles of glass cleaner on the surface of the pastry case, rubbing away some fingerprints (kids really love touching glass, it seems). Cute tarts and petit fours stand like sweet, petite soldiers - ready to march toward whichever customer fancies them. The pretty little confections sparkle beneath the bright lights of the pastry case. Most of their cakes had been looted, but a few slices of strawberry cheesecake and mango mousse remain. As he cleans off dust and grime, Seungsik can see his own reflection in the glass. He scrunches his nose when faced with his own visage.

 

_ Not cute _ , he thinks.  _ I’m definitely no pastry. _

 

“You know, they won’t all be here forever,” His mother’s voice pierces through his daydreaming. He jumps, nearly throwing the rag he’d been using across the room.

 

“Wh- Mom, you can’t just do that!” He huffs, looking up at her petite form leaning over the counter. Even after more than twenty years, the woman still manages to sneak up on him. 

 

“Sorry, sorry!” She throws her hands up, “I thought you’d have noticed. Get your head out of la la land!”

 

“Well, the glass is almost clean, so-”

 

“How can you be thinking about glass when your friends are out swimming, having a good time?”

 

“Mom…” Seungsik pinches the bridge of his nose. He stands up to face her more directly and lowers his voice, “I don’t get what you’re asking here. I thought you wanted me to help out here.”

 

“Seungsik,” She purses her lips in thought for a second, “I would never force you out of this bakery, but I… I suppose as a mother I cannot help but wonder why my son doesn’t want to hang out with his friends. Is something the matter?”

 

“No,” The baker wants to throw his hands up in the air. He feels like he’s had this conversation a million times. “Why do you always ask me that? What is wrong with- with working?”

 

Mama Kang frowns, “Nothing, but… Well, time flies so fast. You may not see it now, but in a few years you will regret not spending time with your friends. I’ve watched you all grow up together, but Hanse goes to school far away and Sejun is only here in the interim. I’m certainly not going to force you to do anything, but… Newvoice will be here for years to come, god willing. Your friends may not.”

 

Seungsik frowns.

 

_ I know, _ he thinks. _ I know they won’t be around forever. They’ll probably move onto doing big, great things. Maybe they’ll come here to visit family, but they’ll all probably leave eventually. Don’t you think I know that, mom? _

 

“You make it sound like they’re going to die!” Seungsik says instead.

 

“Well, technically-”

 

“Mother!”

 

She heaves a dramatic sigh and throws her hands up, “Fine, son, fine. Don’t listen to me your wise mother who has decades of experience in life.”

 

“What do you want me to do,” The baker groans, “Just tell me what you want me to do.” Please, so we can stop having this weirdly harrowing conversation once every month.

 

“Just think about what your mother has to say,” She says insistently. “Try and make the most of this summer. It could be your last with all of the guys.”

 

Seungsik heaves a sigh in defeat, “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

“You sure this is the place?” Sejun asks, eyeing the inconspicuous gravel drive.

 

“Yup,” Hanse replies, “That’s what he said.”

 

“Maybe he’s pranking us,” Byungchan says from the backseat. The four of them had thrown coolers and bookbags into the trunk of Sejun’s sudan before piling in themselves. Hanse sits in shotgun due to being the only one who knows where Subin lives while the two Chans are stuck in the back.

 

Sejun rolls down the gravel drive cautiously, and they quickly find themselves surrounded by woods. Tall evergreens and oaks line the path, covering the driveway in striped shadows. The path in front of them curves, leaving their actual destination completely obscured.

 

“This is spooky,” Byungchan jokes. 

 

“Why would a rich family have a gravel driveway, anyways?” Chan asks aloud. “Wouldn’t they have like heated concrete or something?”

 

“What?” Hanse glances over his shoulder at the other, nose scrunched in bafflement.

 

“It’s a thing!” Chan answers, “People get heated driveways so ice and snow don’t stick!”

 

“Really? Sounds stupid,” Hanse replies.

 

“ _ You _ sound stupid,” Chan fires back.

 

“You  _ look  _ stupid.”

 

“You  _ are  _ stupid.”

 

Hanse fires a hand back, grabbing the first part of Chan he can find. Luckily, his hand finds Chan’s knee. Hanse knows for a fact that just a few centimeters above the knee is an ideal ticklish spot for his friend. He grips the other’s leg firmly, making his body fly off of the seat.

 

“Thud!” Chan’s head hits the car’s ceiling with a soft noise.

 

“Ow- Jerk!” Chan reaches forward to retaliate, but the obstruction of the other seats makes it difficult.

 

“Hey!” Byungchan cuts in, “I’m right here- ow! Chan!”

 

“Sorry, Byung, this is war,” Chan says, straining against his seatbelt in order to get some sort of advantage. His fingers graze Hanse’s side, dangerously close to his armpit. The two go at it in a fit of flailing limbs and snorting laughter.

 

“Can you two  _ please  _ get a room!?” Byungchan kicks in Chan’s general direction.

 

“Shut up, Byung!” “Shut up!” Both Chan and Hanse holler simultaneously. They quickly return to their antics.

 

“Guys,” Sejun’s voice rises above the general din of Chan and Hanse.

 

“Why are you telling me to shut up when you two are literally incapable of shutting up!?” Byungchan huffs.

 

“This doesn’t involve you,” Hanse replies, twisting around beneath this seatbelt to get better positioning. 

 

“Guys,” Sejun says again. The driver’s attempt at garnering attention does nothing; the boisterous duo just get louder and louder. 

 

“You have dishonored my family.” “Your face is dishonorable.” “I feel dirty having to witness this.” “Why don’t you rap about it on soundcloud?” “Hey, guys-” “Big words from a guy who secretly films himself doing girl group dances.” “Guys-” “Wh- What’s wrong with girl group dances?!” “At least I can dance.” “Don’t hate on girl groups!” “Can you, though?”

 

“SCREECH!” “Thud! Thud-thud!”

 

Without warning, the entire car jerked forward. Inertia sent both the contents in the trunk and the people sitting inside flying forward. Sejun had hardly been going more than twenty-five kilometers an hour, but the sudden, stunted stop is enough to grab everyone’s attention. Hanse nearly kisses the dashboard, and Chan’s body gets wedged between the two front seats, twisted around his seatbelt. Byungchan merely blinks confusedly.

 

Sejun loudly clears his throat before announcing, “I think we’re here.” The other three straighten themselves up before glancing in front of them. Even Hanse, the rowdiest of them, is left stunned in silent awe.

 

“What is that?” Byungchan asks, the first to break their silence. 

 

“I- I think that’s his house?” Sejun mutters.

 

“That’s not a house, dude,” Hanse says. “That’s a mansion.”

  
Chan stares ahead of them with his brows furrowed, “It’s- it’s like one of those manors from those western period dramas.”

 

There it stands, tucked away deep in the woods: the grand Jung estate. In front of  Sejun’s car stands a wrought iron gate - there’s even a little buzzer of sorts nearby to call the residents. Beyond the gate is a paved driveway which leads probably half a kilometer to the actual entrance until looping back toward the gate. A flawlessly manicured lawn surrounds the house, accented with pristinely primped hedges and flowerbeds. The house itself stands tall and wide. Hanse makes out two stories, and it looks wider than two football fields. Gray stone covers the western style manse. There’s even a round tower toward one side of the house. Hanse half expects a princess to hang out of the window and ask them to rescue her.

 

“I thought this kid was bougie, upper-middle class rich. Not, like, mansion rich,” Sejun says in awe.

 

“I’d only heard rumors,” Hanse replies.

 

The driver pulls up slowly to the standing buzzer by the gate. Suddenly, the four feel very, very underdressed. A stark contrast to just minutes earlier, they all remain seated, hands in their lap and lips zipped shut. Sejun presses the call button on the gate’s intercom, biting his lip as he waits for something. A droning call tone rings out from the speaker for a few seconds before a muffled voice finally responds.

 

“Jung estate. What is your business?” A man’s voice comes through the line. The guys in the car exchange dubious looks, but only Sejun speaks.

 

“U-uhm, hi. This is, um, L-Lim Sejun. I’m here to, uh, to pick up Subin?” His voice turns up like he’s asking the man permission. A few moments pass with only static silence, and Sejun swallows nervously. Finally, after minutes that feel like years, the man answers again.

 

“Young master Subin is expecting you,” A loud buzzing noise sounds out from the gate in front of them. “You are free to park right in front.”

 

“Click.”

 

The four watch the gate in front of them slowly slide open. Not a word comes out between them. Cautiously, Sejun brings the car onto the paved drive.

 

Out of the grandiose entryway steps the slight form of Jung Subin. Behind him is another, older gentleman. Sejun slowly rolls up to the door until finally stopping. The group in the car watches on silently, their eyes all fixed on the “young master” and his companion.

 

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” Subin says approaching the vehicle with a cute little grin on his face. He both looks and sounds casual, completely in contrast with his house (or the moniker “young master”). His swim trunks have a loud, tropical pattern on them, and his bookbag hangs off of one shoulder. Next to him there’s a cooler with “JUNG” written on it in permanent marker.

 

Sejun gets out of the driver’s seat, greeting the youngest first, “Hey, Subin, let me help you wi- oh.” His eyes go wide as he watches an older gentleman emerge from the grand double-doored entrance of the Jung estate. He paces over to Subin’s side, picking up the cooler by its handle it and rolling it toward Sejun’s car.

 

“He’s got it,” Subin says frankly. “Thanks for picking me up.” He adds.

 

“Oh, no problem,” Sejun replies with a warm smile. The passenger seat window rolls down slowly with a mechanical whirring sound, and Hanse sticks half of his body out.

 

“Get in, loser!” Hanse says, a wide grin on his face. Little chuckles leak out from the window, making the youngest grin. “Oh- ‘Sup, dude?” He turns to Subin’s butler, waving. The two in the backseat double over with chuckles, and Sejun’s eyes widen in horror.

 

“Back seat?” Sejun asks as his butler shuts the trunk.

 

“You can sit on my lap,” Hanse jokes, still hanging out of the window. Subin wiggles his eyebrows at the other, but Sejun steps in before he manages to climb into the passenger side. The guys bid farewell to Subin’s butler (Mr. Lee, he’s called) before securing themselves in the car. Even though Subin’s not the tallest by a longshot, Byungchan gets bullied into the middle seat (“Wh- really? Really guys?!” He hollers, “No, no I am not going in the middle.” He says as he does, in fact, sit in the middle seat.)

 

Jung Manor soon starts to shrink behind them as they roll out toward their destination. 

 

“Ready to commit some crimes?” Hanse glances over his shoulder at the others in the back.

 

“I was born ready,” Subin replies giddily. 

 

* * *

 

Houses get sparser and sparser as Sejun drives away from Jung estate. The Quarry is a bit of a ways away, and the trip to involves a lot of arguing over the auxiliary cord. Along with just. Ordinary arguing. Hanse can’t help but feel extra conscious of Subin. It’s not like he’s a literal child, but he feels inclined to be a bit delicate with the kid. He’s not sure if it’s some primal, big-brotherly instinct or the looming fear that, if anything happens to Subin, his super rich family would sue the crap out of him.

 

“Hello, old friend,” Sejun says mischievously as he slows his car down. He turns down a worn gravel drive off of the deserted country road they’d found themselves on. The car joggles, and the sound of rock crunching under wheels muffles the loud chatter in the car. 

 

“You said we’re going swimming, right?” Subin leans into the gap between the two front seats.

 

_ There it is _ , Hanse thinks to himself.  _ That glimpse of innocence.  _

 

“Yup,” He replies glibly. The car follows the winding gravel path, passing a few desecrated concrete structures on its way. There’s old filling stations for steam-powered trains and rusted rails. 

 

Finally, Sejun lulls the car into a stop, snarking, “Thank you for riding Air Sejun! Please be careful removing your baggage as it may have shifted during our travels.”

 

“What if my baggage is emotional?” Byungchan jokes. Chan and Subin snicker.

 

“We know you’re a mess, Byungchan,” Sejun chuckles as he gets out.

  
The five hop out of the car, unloading the trunk and delegating who has to carry what (“Why am I stuck with the cooler?” “Because you’re super strong.” “I’ll take Subin’s.” “Aw, you’re so sweet.” “I can get it myself…” “No, shut up, let Sejun act as your lowly peon. It suits him.”). With Sejun (lugging a cooler behind him) on point, the other four follow toward their destination. Hanse decides to lag a bit behind with Subin.

 

“Is there… A place to swim here?” Subin asks. 

 

_ Oh sweet, summer child _ , Hanse laughs internally; “Yup! I know it seems kind of unlikely, but it’s one of the best spots near town.”

 

“Doesn’t seem like anyone else is here…” Subin looks around. Overgrown trees and brush surround the once used gravel drive they walk on. Dilapidation litters the edges - leftover bits of debris, broken hunks of concrete and rock. The rich kid squints at Hanse dubiously, but he keeps on walking.

 

“That’s what’s great about it,” Hanse shrugs, “There’s not really anyone out here usually. It’s nice to get the whole place to yourself.”

 

“So nobody will hear me scream when you all ritually sacrifice me to satan?”

 

Hanse snorts; he hadn’t expected that.

 

“Wh-  _ No _ ,” He responds emphatically. “No we are not going to sacrifice you to satan. We would never! We’re here to offer up Byungchan.”

 

“What about Byungchan?!” The man in question turns around - he’d gotten about five meters ahead and had to yell. 

 

“Nothing!” Hanse replies, a telling grin on his lips.

 

“He said we’re sacrificing you to satan!” Subin hollers back. 

 

“Wh- I cannot believe you just sold me out like that!” Hanse shoves a cackling Subin lightly. 

 

“I don’t think satan would accept me!” Byungchan shouts back, smirking, “Maybe we should sacrifice Hanse. The devil’s pretty big on virgins, right?”

 

“Oh crap,” Subin mutters under his breath.

 

“If that’s the case then I think our best bet is Chan!” Hanse retorts.

 

“Screw both of you!” Chan yells, not bothering to turn around.

 

“Guys can we please not talk about Chan’s sex life,” Sejun adds loudly. “Nobody needs to hear about that. We want to eat today.”

 

“Wow,” Chan gasps. “When I die, then you’ll know!”

 

Hanse chuckles, glancing at Subin. He’s smiling ear to ear. Good. Even though he barely knows the kid, he gets good vibes about him. Like he was meant to be their friend all along or something. He fits in easily and gets their stupid sense of humor. Isn’t that the foundation for any lasting friendship? It worked for Hanse and Chan, and they’ve been best buds for years.

 

“What’s that?” Subin asks, nodding ahead.

 

Hanse raises his eyebrows curiously and follows the other’s eyes, “Huh? Oh, the gate.” Barring their path is a shanty old gate of sorts. Calling it a gate is really not very flattering to actual, functioning gates. It used to be a gate, but the middle part, joining the two rusted pieces of metal fencing isn’t present. A rusted chain with a sign denoting: “NO TRESPASSING” instead acts as the barrier between people and the quarry. Subin and Hanse scurry onward to catch up with the others at the so-called “gate”.

 

“Wait, but-” Subin furrows his brows at the sign as they approach, “It says ‘no trespassing’.”

 

“Does it, though?” Hanse asks facetiously.

 

“Yeah, right here it-”

 

“Does it really, though?” Hanse repeats himself. He lifts the chain that the sign hangs off of, gesturing beneath it. Byungchan, Chan, and Sejun, snickering between themselves, duck under and continue walking toward the quarry.

 

“Oh,” Subin nods, a grin crossing his lips. He pauses before nodding again, more enthusiastically, “Oh, I get it we’re- we’re gonna go even though-”

 

“You coming?” Hanse asks with a laugh, already on the other side of the chain. 

 

“Right- yeah, I’m coming!” Subin grips his backpack straps tighter as he dips below the clinking chain. The loud sound of the cooler’s wheels grinding against gravel practically drown out the bunch’s idle conversation.

 

Subin clamors up to Hanse’s side, fiddling with his bookbag straps as he tries to make smalltalk, “So, you guys swim around here much?”

 

Hanse can’t help chuckling at the sight.  _ Even just talking normally, he’s adorable _ , he thinks.

 

“Yeah, the quarry is great. The water’s actually crystal clear and like I said: it’s deserted.”

 

“Shocking. I wonder why,” Subin snarks.

 

Their walk isn’t much longer after reaching the gate. Sejun and Chan complain about the coolers they’re lugging while Byungchan harasses them. Hanse rattles off little tales and tips - things they’d learned from years of swimming somewhere that maybe isn’t super safe. Finally, a break in the wooded overgrowth emerges. The trees clear, giving way to the crystal clear, blue sky. In front of them stretches a coarse, rocky shore.

 

Sunlight sparkles off of the gently ebbing waters of the quarry. Gray walls of carved sandstone and bedrock jutted out from the earth in a towering perimeter. The clean cuts of stone indicate man’s intervention with the terrain. But, after years of neglect, greenery stubbornly pokes out from between haphazardly discarded stones. Lichens decorate the massive boulders like garland, and a few trees daringly dip so low that their foliage grazes the surface of the crystal blue water. 

 

“Whoa,” Subin blurts out as he and Hanse approach behind the others. Sejun and Byungchan had already clamored up to the gravelly shore to set up. They’d laid out a few of the junky blankets they’d taken and kicked open their cooler. A worn lawn chair had been unfolded, and on top of it the two had set their bag of precious goodies.

 

“Pretty, right?” Hanse asks, an ear to ear grin on his face. He pats Subin on the shoulder roughly.

 

“The water is so… Blue,” Subin gawks as the two approach.

 

_ I love educating the youth of today _ , Hanse snickers internally. 

 

“Hurry up!” Chan calls over to the two with his hand in the cooler. Behind him Sejun slathers on sunscreen while Byungchan tests the water with his toe. Subin looks up at Hanse shyly, and the older guy gives him an encouraging nod. In that moment he decides he would die for the kid. For a second, Hanse considers that maybe he’s too loyal.

 

_ Nah _ , he tells himself.  _ There’s no such thing as too loyal. _

 

“Subin, Subin!” Sejun calls the youngest over, “Here, did you bring sunscreen?” He waves Subin over. 

 

_ Looks like I’m not the only one doting on him, then. _

 

“Hanse, get over here!” Chan hollers to Hanse, “Come on!” He withdraws a couple of cans of beer. Byungchan ambles next to him, taking a bluetooth speaker out of their tote bag. 

 

Hanse and Subin cross over to him, and he starts passing out cans. Soon everyone converges around the cooler, until everyone has a can of their very own. 

 

Hanse extends one to Subin and quirks an eyebrow inquisitively, “Are you… Old enough to drink?”

 

“You gonna card me?” Subin replies.

 

“I like your style.”

 

Subin smirks, taking the can of beer gladly, “I’ve never done this before.”

 

“Swimming with a buzz is, like, a summer necessity. You have to do it at least once.”

 

“Wait- isn’t it dangerous to…” Subin eyes the others inquisitively. “To drink and swim?” The edges of his lips twitch slightly.

 

Hanse and Chan exchange a shrug while Byungchan nods to himself and Sejun’s nose scrunches.

 

“I mean… Yeah?” “Yeah, kind of.” “Lil’ bit.” They mutter responses all at once.

 

Sejun holds  up a finger, interjecting, “I  _ promise  _ I will be sober driving back, though. I would never endanger anyone like that.”

 

“The water’s shallow, though,” Chan adds, “Drowning would be impressive, to be honest. It’s, like- maybe two meters. If that.”

 

Byungchan comments, “You know you can drown if any water enters your- oof.” Chan kicks him in the shin, halting that line of thought.

 

“Look,” Hanse approaches Subin, looping an arm around him. “You do not have to drink or do anything you don’t want to. Honestly, we don’t care, we’re just here to have a good time. I totally get if you have stricter morals-”

 

“Wh- Morals?” Subin snorts, “Oh, God, no. I don’t have those. It’s just nice to hang out with people who don’t either.” He holds his can of beer up to everyone else’s, a wide grin on his face. Suddenly, Hanse gets the impression that maybe little Jung Subin, adorable rich boy from the mansion on the hill, isn’t as innocent as he looks.

 

“Well,” Byungchan smirks, “Can’t argue with that. To bad morals?” He waves his can around.

 

“To bad morals!” The others shout back. Their cans of beer meet with a soft clunk, spilling liquid everywhere. They each tip their cans to their lips, uncaring when the excess foam runs down their chins or cheeks. 

 

Hanse savors the bitter, wheaty tang of light beer in his mouth. Though they’d been outside for a short time, the sunlight had already started baking him into a fine crisp. He rushes to empty the can’s contents down his throat before jumping into the gratifying coolness of fresh water. Little yells from the others trickle into his ears, followed by splashing noises. 

 

“Ah!” “Cold! Cold!” “No, no, no- Don’t-” “C’mon Subin, it’s not that cold.” “It feels so nice.” “Yah, don’t grab me there!”

 

Finally, it feels like summer is officially underway.

 

* * *

 

Seungsik sighs, leaning heavily against the pastry case. It’s hitting early afternoon, and it’s died down slightly. It’s the time where people like to take afternoon naps or run errands; everyone’s finished lunch, and anyone who’d ordered a birthday cake or cookies in advance had picked them up earlier. Finally, Seungsik muses tiredly, a bit of peace.

 

“You can go now,” His mom’s voice pierces through his afternoon daze. 

 

“Wh- Mom! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

 

“I’m serious! We close soon, anyways. Why not nap so you have some hope of having fun tonight?”

 

Seungsik purses his lips, she does have a point. Bed sounds mind-blowingly amazing to him. The words “did I give birth to a grandpa” ring in his head at the thought. He opts to ignore them and do as he pleases - mom’s judgment be damned!

 

“Okay, okay,” The baker finally concedes, “I’ll get out of your hair. Lemme wash up.” He heads to the kitchen to wash his hands. Not like it’ll do anything to lessen the permanent wreak of baked goods he walks around with. Still, it makes him feel slightly better. His dad leans against one of the metal counters, sipping a coffee laxly. He looks up from the newspaper he’d been skimming to regard his son.

 

“Thanks for the help,” He says flatly.

 

“No problem,” Seungsik replies. Mom had always been the more animated of the two. His interactions with dad were pretty curt. He’d learned not to mind it too much or think badly of it. Some people talk a lot, some don’t. Some only show their colors in certain situations. Some people like to cheat on family game night then blame your mother, consequently derailing the board game completely until they unexpectedly win beneath everyone’s noses. Not that Seungsik knows from experience.

 

The baker strides into the back room, shedding his embroidered apron. He heaves a heavy sigh. 

 

_ Sure, I could go out with the guys _ , he considers.  _ Or I could just game all night… _

 

Suddenly, his mom’s voice enters the kitchen, bouncing loudly off of the metal surfaces and echoing into the back room.

 

“Seungsik! Come here! I need you to serve a customer!”

 

Seungsik furrows his brows.  _ Hadn’t she just spent the last few hours telling me to get the hell out? _

 

“Uh- Right, coming!” Seungsik says, obediently returning to the front. He nearly crashes into his mom who’d (apparently) been waiting right by the entrance to the kitchen. “Whoa- Mom!”

 

“Shh!” She hushes him, putting a finger to his lips roughly. Her eyes dart to the pastry window, “Large iced coffee to go for this gentleman. And get him a bottle of water for free, he looks thirsty.”

 

“Uh, okay, but- um,” Seungsik looks around. There’s only a couple of customers sitting at tables, and they’d all been served. He wants to ask “why me”, but opts not to. His mom probably had some silly, impulsive thing that she needed to tell dad that instant. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Right, I’ll. Do that.”

 

Seungsik, confused as ever, gets to work. Their cold brew is ready, so serving it takes literal seconds. He grabs a bottle of water from the little fridge beneath their coffee station and strides over to the window.

 

“Apologies for the wait. Ms. Kang had to tend to something in the kitchen. Here’s your large iced coffee and-”

  
Suddenly, Seungsik feels very, very underdressed.

 

His eyes go wider than saucers when he finally sees the person leaning against the window, and his brain freezes. Even covered in sweat, chest heaving to catch his breath, the guy looks gorgeous. His loose tank top doesn’t do anything to cover his lean figure - not that Seungsik hasn’t seen what’s beneath, anyways. A slight choking sensation clots Seungsik’s throat, and he tries desperately to say something. Anything.

 

“Hey,” The city boy says casually. Seungsik can’t tell what his face means. Is he happy? Sad? Annoyed? Exhausted from his jog?

 

Seungsik’s eyes quickly fall from the other’s face down his body. Even though his apron usually bears the brunt of his mess, there’s still splotches of flour here and there. Splashes of coffee magically find their way onto this clothes - he swears he doesn’t know how, and the clothes he picks out when half asleep on Saturday mornings aren’t exactly his best. On top of that, knowing just how he looks under them doesn’t really help. Especially when some lean adonis is standing right in front of you. 

 

“Hey,” The newcomer - Seungwoo, that’s his name. Seungsik has to remind himself because he somehow forgets words every time the guy’s near him. “ _ Hello _ ?”

 

_ Impatient _ , Seungsik thinks, not minding the fact that he’d probably been awkwardly gawking for a good minute or two. Usually this is when they’d try some choked out smalltalk. Seungsik still doesn’t quite feel at ease around the other. He’d started stopping by for coffee. At first Seungsik thought it was an olive branch of sorts, but the guy is still cold as ever. He’s not offensive, per se. He’s not exactly friendly either. Whether he means to or not, Seungwoo gives off the impression that he’s judging a person just by looking at them.

 

Seungsik scrambles to finally respond, “S-Sorry, just-” Surprised to see you. “Early morning.” He extends the capped cup of cold brew toward him.

 

“Right,” Seungwoo replies flatly. He looks Seungsik up and down. It’s not quick, either. Seungsik can feel those dark eyes of his take a long, lazy trip down from his toes all the way up to his flushed face. (It’s flushed from a long day’s work, of course.) “You ever not work?” He asks with a quirked eyebrow.

 

“I- Um,” Seungsik laughs awkwardly. “I work a lot. I do take days off, though.”

 

“Really? ‘Cause I see you here, like, all the time,” He replies bluntly.

 

_ Oh, and you’re an expert on me and how I live my life?! _ “Guess it seems that way. It’s lots of work, but I like it,” The baker forces out another laugh.

 

“Hm. Can’t blame you. If I lived here I’d work a lot, too…” Seungwoo gazes around the square briefly, “I’m already picking up extra hours out of boredom.”

 

_ There it is _ , Seungsik thinks, _ the tactless, rude statement _ . Just when Seungsik thinks Seungwoo might actually be kind of cool, something like that drops from his mouth. The other day he’d decided to make recommendations to Seungsik’s wardrobe (“Wouldn’t it make more sense to just wear white all the time? You’re covered in flour.”). A day before that, he’d felt the need to mention how “mainstream” Seungsik’s music choices for the day were. Everything would always be pleasant until the arrogant city boy dropped his little remarks. Then Seungsik would be given the stark reminder: Han Seungwoo genuinely believes he’s better than anyone else. Nothing else can explain such hubris!

 

_ So what if this place is boring _ , Seungsik remarks mentally, _ I grew up here. I’m allowed to say it! You just got here like a week ago. You’re a guest! You don’t get to say rude crap about a community full of nice people! Sorry we don’t have twenty clubs or bars down a block and angry people honking at traffic! _

 

“You find stuff to do when you’re out here,” Seungsik answers diplomatically. “A lot of people have fires or do stuff outdoors. Huh Gak’s - the bar on the corner - is pretty busy on the weekends actually. His food is top notch. There’s usually live music and- and there’s an open mic night.” Seungsik almost considers mentioning that he takes the stage on open mic night. Almost. Something about the thought of divulging that information makes him want to jump off a cliff. Just picturing Seungwoo in the crowd, watching him sing, is too humiliating.

 

“Hm? Really?” Seungwoo’s interest is piqued.

 

_ Crap. _ “Yeah. Plus there’s often little festivals and markets in the square. It’s not much in terms of night-life, but during the day people do all kinds of things.”

 

“Hm…” Seungwoo seemingly thinks about something, “You said people have fires?”

 

That’s a weird thing to fixate on, but, okay. “W-well yeah. All the time. You just need to find someone with a backyard - not hard to find around here.”  _ Wait… Can I lord this over him? _ “Do people not have, like, yards where you live?”

 

Seungwoo chuckles sheepishly, and Seungsik momentarily forgets that he hates the guy. The way his smile - even a small one - blossoms across his face is really cute. It’s like witnessing a polar ice cap melting (minus the catastrophic implications to global warming). The city boy shakes his head.

 

“Not really, no. Just apartments. There’s a few little, like, hoods with houses, but… Their yards are usually small. They’re too close together to have a fire.”

 

“Oh, that kinda sucks,”  _ Take that! You may have culture and stuff, but we have FIRE. The foundation of mankind! _ “Sometimes people get a bunch of palettes from warehouses and stack them super high-” Seungsik holds his hand high above himself to illustrate, “-and just light them up. Like a dozen.”

 

“What?” Seungwoo’s nose scrunched as he chuckled. “That’s- that’s gotta be a massive fire.”

 

“Yeah, it’s probably, like, super dangerous, but-” The baker shrugs, “-guess when there’s not a lot of stuff you make up your own stuff.”

 

“Mm,” The city boy nods, “Fire hazards. Sounds like fun.”

 

“Yeah. Now that I think about it, a lot of our favorite pastimes involve fire. Grilling, bonfires, lighting fireworks. Maybe we should be concerned.”

 

“You’re making me concerned,” Seungwoo replies. 

 

Seungsik swallows hard. He feels it again, the little panging ache in his chest. The one he’s been trying to ignore since seeing the guy for the first time. Suddenly, he remembers there’s something in his other hand. 

 

“O-oh!” He extends the water bottle he’d been holding to Seungwoo, “This is for you.”

 

Seungsik looks down at the bottle with furrowed brows, “I, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for-”

 

“It’s on the house,” Seungsik cuts him off. “Iced coffee is good to wake you  up, but-” His eyes drift to Seungwoo’s chest. The city boy’s tank top sags off of his chest, revealing way too much for Seungsik’s wholesome eyes. Tearing his eyes away from perfectly toned pecs, he finishes, “-if you’re gonna be running in this hot weather, you should probably hydrate, too.”

 

Seungwoo’s face falls into an expression of shock. His jaw drops and he looks at the water bottle like it’s some alien object he’d never seen in his life. Hesitantly, he takes it in his hand. 

 

Slowly, he says, “I could pay for this.” It comes out as more of a mumble than anything, like an afterthought.

 

Seungsik lifts his hands in the air, shaking his head, “Nope, it’s all yours.” Seungwoo still looks stunned, and it starts to actually worry Seungsik. He can’t help but ask, “Is that… Fine?”

 

Seungwoo snaps out of whatever funk he’d fallen into; he nods, flashing a tight-lipped, courteous smile, “Y-yeah, of course. I just- um, surprised is all. That’s really nice of you.”

 

_ It’s just a bottle of water, _ Seungsik thinks, “Well, if that’s all…”

 

“Yeah!” Seungwoo responds in a weirdly loud voice. Before Seungsik can try to interpret it, the city boy waves, “Thanks so much. Have a good one!” His slender form starts trotting off, quickly shrinking as he half jogs across the square.

 

“O...Kay,” Seungsik mutters. Weird.

 

He heaves a sigh, pushing off of the window so he can go take his nap. 

 

“Ah!” The baker jumps when he (once again) nearly bumps into his mother. “Mom- How are you so sneaky? I-” Suddenly, a realization clicks into place. “Were you  _ eavesdropping _ ?” He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.

 

“He’s very handsome,” She replies, not bothering to actually answer her son’s question. “Where is he from?”

 

“He’s from the city- why? I mean- why do you need to know?”

 

“Does he have a name?”

 

“It’s, um, Seungwoo- wait! You didn’t answer my question! Were you eavesdropping? Did you even need to tell dad anything?”

 

“He seems rather friendly. Did I mention he’s handsome?”

 

“Yes, mom, you did,” Seungsik buries his face in his hand.

 

“What does he do?”

 

“He’s doing clinicals at the Healing Center right now- I mean- mother!”

 

“Son!” She throws her hands up, dramatically, “What?”

 

“What do you mean what? You know what!”

 

“Fine, you’re right, I’m sorry. Sue me for trying to introduce my son to a nice, handsome, apparently educated man. I’m the  _ worst  _ mother ever. I am so sorry.”

 

“Mom…” Seungsik sighs heavily. “I’m going to go take a nap. I love you.” He grabs her by the shoulders, pecking her on top of the head. “Love you dad!” He calls back to the kitchen.

 

“Enjoy your nap!” His dad calls back.

  
Seungsik does just as he says. After making sure that he has his phone and keys, he heads out the back door and up the fire escape to his flat. It takes entirely too much willpower for him to even change before plopping onto his bed. When he finally does, donning sweats and a t-shirt, he buries his hot face in his pillows.

 

_ Why did that guy have to stop by?  _

_   
_ _ Why? _

 

_ Why? _

_   
_ _ Why?! _

 

He asks himself over and over until sleep finally drags him under.


	3. Chapter 3

“Shut up- shut up- shut up-” “No, I’m serious it was like a fire engine.” “And a mullet!” “No way!” “Nah, but he rocked it though.” “Cookie me! I need cookies!” “Hanse looks good in everything.” “I do, but that doesn’t mean we have to show-” “Oh, cute!” “Wait- Dude! This is my song, turn it up-” “Ha! Oh my god-” “-yes, yes-” “Byung, stop twerking-” “Wh- Come on, Byung there’s children here.” “Yeah, Chan’s virgin eyes can’t be corrupted by your flat butt-” “My butt is not flat.” “Can someone pass me another cookie?”

 

General chaos wraps around the Newvoice ensemble as the laze around the rocky shore of the quarry. Happiness and alcohol twine together to wrap the boisterous bunch in a pleasant buzz. 

 

“Crap, we’re almost out,” Sejun chuckles. He got prime real estate: a spot by the cooler - but, consequently, he’s on snack passing duty. Being the only sober one of the bunch, it’s probably for the best that he’s administering them.

 

“No!” Subin wails, flailing his limbs wildly. “They’re so good…” He pouts. 

 

With the high cliff faces surrounding them, they’d been plunged into shade long before the sun had actually started setting. Finally, after hours of swimming, lazing around, eating, and playing drinking games, the orange light peeking out from above the trees tells them: it’s time to go.  Chan’s spent the past half hour yawning, and Byungchan’s almost exhausted his catalogue of girl group dances.

 

“Alright kids, it’s starting to get dark, we should probably go soon,” Sejun tries to rally the troops.

 

“I don’t wanna,” Subin protests. For whatever reason, this prompts Hanse to jab his fingers in the kid’s sides, causing his body to jolt. “Ah- Hey! Stop! That tickles- That- Wah! You’re so mean!”

 

“Aw, is our little Subinnie a little tipsy?” Hanse antagonizes the youngest. 

 

“You’re a little tipsy,” Subin fires back with a pout.

 

“A little?” Chan laughs from behind them, “He was a little tipsy like three hours ago. He’s full blown now.”

 

“Yeah, I’m at full mast,” Hanse adds.

 

“Ew,” Byungchan, the only one among the drunks to actually be picking up scrunches his nose. Subin, on the other hand, finds the immature joke hilarious and bursts out laughing. He turns to putty in Hanse’s teasing hands, resulting in a jumble of flailing limbs. “Who let you in- who let them in?!” Byungchan wails.

 

“I dunno, but if you guys don’t start picking up the trash, you’re walking home,” Sejun says sternly. The riotous trio halts like a DVD that had the pause button hit. Chan huffs while Hanse and Subin disentangle their arms and legs.

 

“Yes, sir!” Hanse clumsily salutes to Sejun when he’s finally on his own. The gesture would no doubt be an insult to any real officer of the military, but luckily for them it’s just sober Sejun.

 

“Ack, I think I got a bit burned on my shoulders,” Chan groans as he ambles over to their sitting area to collect trash.

 

“Really? I think I’m fine,” Subin replies.

 

“Well Sejun set you a sunscreen alarm,” Chan pouts.

 

“You could’ve gotten out of the water, too!” Sejun calls out from the distance. He’d already started walking toward the car.

 

“Hey, wait up!” “Wait for me!” “We’re leaving you.” “I call shotgun!”

 

The other four scramble to get their stuff together. Soon, the place looks no different than it had before they’d arrived (save for the setting sun). Almost all of the food they had brought had been eaten. All that had survived the afternoon was half a baguette, a few cans of beer, and two cookies. They’d stuffed their trash into a bag and said bag occupied one of the coolers Sejun had brought.

 

“Wh- No fair, he got a head start!” “Come on!” “Subin, climb on my back, it’ll be faster.” “You’re gonna drop me!” “Climb on my back - I’m stronger.” “Really, guys?” “He’s gonna get aux at this rate- someone needs to catch him.” “I’m falling- I’m falling-” “I’ve got you!” “We’re gonna have to listen to his girl group playlist again. If I have to hear that stupid song one more time-” “Onward my noble steed!” “Stop kicking me-”

 

Sejun turns around, witnessing the chaos unfold before him. He’s confident that they’ll reach the car. Eventually. Until then, he can laugh at the spectacle. For an instant, he’s terrified Subin will actually get hurt, and it occurs to him that they’re returning the Jung Subin home drunk. 

 

“Uh-” Sejun calls to Subin, “Subin, is anyone gonna see you like this when you get home?”

 

Chan (who’d so nobly taken up the role of Subin’s steed) stops suddenly. Hanse does, too, for some reason. Byungchan - who’d been next to Sejun - gasps. 

 

Subin looks around, a devilish grin on his face, “Maybe.”

 

“Wh- Dude, we’re not trying to get you in trouble!” Sejun replies, throwing his hands up.

 

“Don’t worry about it. Only Mr. Lee would notice, and he’s not gonna say anything,” Subin’s grin is cheshire-like. “Now,” He looks down at Chan under him, “Take me home! Yip-yip!” He digs his heel into Chan’s side.

 

“Wh- Ow! You’re so demanding!” Chan snorts, clumsily lumbering forward.

 

“Faster, faster!” Subin ignores the other’s plight, pointing a finger forward triumphantly. “To el dorado!”

 

“Ow!” “Damn he’s got you whipped.” “Shut up.” “Hope you guys like bubblegum pop.” “No- No!” “Yes.” “Someone stop him.” “Sejun can you please veto his music choice?!” “We listened to your stupid indie hip-hop on the way here.” “It’s not stupid, it’s poetry!” “Yeah!”

 

Sejun rolls his eyes, turning around to go back toward his car.  _ Idiots. They’re all idiots.  _ Sighing in defeat, he concedes:  _ but they’re  _ my  _ idiots. _

 

* * *

“Bye Subin!” Byungchan waves out the window.

 

“Bye Subinnie,” Chan makes exaggerated kissy faces to the youngest. Subin’s nose scrunches as he gets out of Sejun’s car. The trip to Jung Manor or whatever it’s called had been boisterous for a while. However, as time ticked on, the energy dwindled, and soon alcohol had done what it so often does: it made them real sleepy. Combined with the setting of the sun and the steady rumble of the car, it made for the perfect nap recipe. Byungchan had miraculously stayed awake, but the same couldn’t be said for Chan and Subin in the back. By some strange misfortune, Hanse had been the one in the middle. Consequently, he had not one, but two drooling drunks using his shoulders as pillows.

 

When they’d finally gotten back to the Jung mansion, Hanse had to jostle them awake. Though they’re slightly groggy, their farewells are no less heartfelt for it.

 

“Bye sweetie,” Hanse jokes, “Have fun at school!”

  
“I’m gonna challenge the biggest kid in the cafeteria to a fight,” Subin calls back, grabbing his cooler and bookbag from the popped trunk. 

 

“That’s my boy! Wait- wait- hold up!”

 

“What?” Subin asks, shutting the trunk before he crosses back over to the open door.

 

“You need to text me your gamertag- All of your IGNs.”

 

“If you want to get smacked around that badly-”

 

“He  _ loves  _ getting smacked,” Chan adds impishly, getting him an elbow in the rib courtesy of Hanse. 

 

“I’ll text ‘em to you,” Subin says with another giggle.

  
“Wait- Do you need help with those?” Sejun asks, looking over his shoulder from the driver’s seat.

 

“Nah, I’m good. I am strong man,” Subin flexes his noodle-like arm to accentuate his point.

 

“...Right.”

 

“Mr. Lee will help me when I get in. Buh-bye!” The youngest waves flamboyantly as he skips away.

 

“Buh-bye!” “Bye!” “I love you!” 

 

“Bye now!” Subin calls back to the chorus of farewells.

 

“Bye!” “Bye, king!” “Bye.”

 

“Byeee-!” Subin yells until he reaches the door.

 

Sejun waits until the door shuts behind Subin to start the car again. It reminds Hanse that the car’s door is still open, so he closes it.

 

“Love that kid,” Byungchan is the first to break the brief spell of silence as they pull away.

 

“Right?” “Such a good kid.” “He’s good people.” “I feel like I’ve known him for way longer.”

 

The Jung Estate slowly disappears from view, its lit windows and yard soon being obscured by thick woods. Among the longtime locals, a consensus is reached:

 

Jung Subin is one of us now.

  
He’s carved out a niche in their collective heart and, whether he likes it or not, they’re not letting him go. Vague, nonsensical chatter fills the car as the roll away. The stop newly invigorates them as they go off on some other tangent, arguing about everything and nothing at the same time. Soon, they reach what looks like a real road again - that is, they’re finally out of Subin’s driveway.

 

There’s just a few rays of sun left to color the sky. Their fleeting tones of deep amber just barely tint the bottom of the sky, threatened by the tones of blue and deep midnight just beyond. Orangey street lights crop up out of the ground every so often. Town had never cared much for lights, but with all the critters roaming close to the streets, they’d installed what seem to be the bare minimum amount. The windows are cracked, and the fresh scent of cut grass mingles with the dank undertone of humidity, blowing into the car gently. 

 

“-it is!” Byungchan hollers.

 

“It is not,” Chan snickers back. Hanse had zoned out for a minute and lost track of the conversation. “Back me up on this!”

 

“Wh- Whoa, whoa- what is going on?” Hanse scrunches his nose, humored.

 

“Byungchan keeps insisting that black is a valid favorite color. It’s not. It’s a neutral and it’s cheating,” Chan says pointedly toward the passenger seat.

 

“What? Black is totally a favorite color.”

 

“Wh-” Chan gasps, “It’s, like, not even a color!”

 

“Are you guys really arguing over  _ colors _ ?” Sejun laughs from the driver’s seat.

 

“Yes!” “Yes!” “Yes we are!” All three shout in unison.

 

“Okay! Dang- I’m sorry I asked, jeez,” Sejun snorts, zipping his lips shut.

 

“It is a color, by the way,” Hanse snorts.

 

“Black is literally the absence of color. A total. Absence. Of color,” Chan answers emphatically, like winning the argument is the most important thing in his life at that moment.

 

Byungchan adds, “Okay, but in regards to wardrobe-”

 

“It’s a neutral!” Chan argues. Hanse is a hundred percent certain he’s being contrary for the sake of it. Chan’s like that, he likes being loud and obnoxious for the sake of it. He goes off on tangents all the time and won’t let go of a point until it’s thoroughly fleshed out. That’s part of what Hanse likes so much about him.

 

“Why can’t a neutral be a favorite color?” Hanse asks.

 

“Because! That’s cheating! It matches everything that’s like saying white rice is your favorite food!”

 

“Well, some people like plain white rice. Do you have a problem with that?”

 

“White rice is not a favorite food it is- it’s like a side dish.”

 

“Rice is not a side dish.”

 

“Really? Because my work sells it by itself. You know what section of the menu it’s under?”

 

“Oh my god-”

 

“The sides, Hanse. Sides. Side dish. Neutrals are the side dish of colors.”

 

“Love how you brought that back to the main argument,” Hanse comments, nose scrunched with laughter.

 

“Thank you, I try-”

 

“But that doesn’t mean you’re right!” 

 

“Okay, wow. Really?”

 

“If someone says their favorite dish is kimchi, would you chastise them and tell them it’s not a real dish?”

 

“W-well-”

  
“Ah-ha!”   
  


“Kimchi isn’t bland, though!”

 

“White rice has a flavor, it’s just mild. Like that of neutral colors.”

 

“White rice is not the center of a dish, ever. There isn’t white rice flavored stuff like there’s kimchi-”

 

“Screech!” Suddenly, the car comes to a complete halt. Hanse’s body jerks forward, straining against the seatbelt at the sudden braking. Chan does the same, with the added misfortune of kissing the front seat. 

 

“What the heck?!” “What was that?!” The two in the back groan. Byungchan and Sejun just snicker.

 

“Get out,” Sejun says. Hanse and Chan exchange looks, then glance out the car windows. They’re at the end of Chan’s street. It’s sleepier than most others with only one street light in the very middle of it. The houses are a bit  further apart, and there’s no sidewalk. 

 

“Shut up,” Chan responds with a laugh. Byungchan is beside himself, giggling like a hyena in the front seat.

 

“No! Get out! You two have spurned me for the last time! I sentence thee to a lengthy walk down the street!”

 

“Wh- Both of us?” Hanse asks, part bewildered, part amused.

 

“Yes! Begone!” Sejun insists. 

 

“Are you kidding m-”

 

“Begone! I will not move this vehicle until-”

 

“Oh my god, fine!” Hanse admits defeat first, throwing his hands up. “Drama king.”

 

“You’re gonna make us walk?” Chan groans.

 

“You could use the exercise, lazy ass,” Hanse jokes. Chan’s shoulders shake as he chuckles.

 

“Oh my god get out!” Byungchan reaches a lanky arm between the seats to swat at them.

 

“Okay, fine! Fine!” “We’re going!” Hanse and Chan clumsily stumble out of the sudan. The trunk is popped before they even get out, and no sooner than they shut it - after getting their stuff - does Sejun start speeding away.

 

“Wh- Hey!” Chan gasps. Hanse does the same, mouth falling wide open as he watches his friend steer off. Byungchan does them the courtesy of waving goodbye out the window, his loud laughter echoing all the way to the end of the cross street until they turn a corner. 

 

The sun’s basically gone, the only memory of it the lingering heat radiating off of the pavement. Hanse and Chan exchange entertained expressions before turning heel toward Chan’s place at the end of the street. 

 

“Rude,” Chan laughs, hoisting his bookbag up onto his shoulder more securely. 

 

“Right? The utter disrespect. It’s like nobody appreciates a good battle of- of wits,” Hanse respond. 

 

It feels impossibly quiet on the deserted street. There’s no blasting stereo or tittering Byungchan. Nobody has a dog out in their yard, and there isn’t even a breeze to rustle the leaves. The only things occupying that street are one faintly buzzing street light and two buzzed young men. 

 

_ This is pleasant, _ Hanse thinks. He didn’t realize how nice quiet would be after spending the entire day surrounded by rambunctious chatter. The night air smells nice, and he feels at ease with only Chan in his company. Being with Chan isn’t like being with the others. The two know each other so well, hanging out with him is as easy as breathing air. They can game together, watch stuff, or just ignore one another on their laptops together. Hanse can’t do that with anyone else.

 

_ I wonder if Subinnie’s more introverted or extroverted?  _ Hanse muses.  _ I guess he’s pretty shy since he never talked to us. At least, not until I sat on a cake… _

 

“Subin is cool,” Hanse blurts out. The thought had been at the forefront of his mind, and his drunk lips let it slip out. Woops. It’s a bit candid, but Hanse knows Chan had heard weirder from him, so he doesn’t let it bother him.

 

“Yeah, he actually is,” Chan agrees. There’s a small, warm grin across his lips. “I dunno, I thought he’d be stuck up or something.”

 

“Well he’s rich. That’s the stereotype, right?”

 

“I guess. I just mean- he never talked to you guys for forever. You have to wonder what he’s thinking.”

 

“Guess I see what you mean. I think you’re prejudiced, though,” Hanse teases, rocking his body to the side so his shoulder bumps Chan’s.

 

Chan chuckles, “Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Prejudiced against rich people… And neutral colors-”

 

“Oh my god- you know I was just spouting crap, right?” Chan laughs.

 

“You do nothing but spout crap,” Hanse smirks, “Of course I know.”

 

“It’s funny, though. Byungchan was all riled up.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. It was funny then. Now we’re walking to your place.”

 

“Well, you had to butt in-”

 

“You  _ asked  _ me to!”

 

“Did I?”

 

Hanse shoves Chan to the side playfully as an answer.

 

“Ugh, this abuse!” Chan exclaims, giving Hanse a light shove back.

 

“Wh- Don’t be rude!”

 

“You’re ruder.”

 

“Shut up. You’re on thin ice, Heo Chan. Careful or I’ll make Jung Subin my new friend.”

 

“Ugh- That’s unfair,” Chan jokingly scoffs. 

 

“Then maybe try not being a moron once in awhile.”

 

“I- You’re asking a lot of me there.”

 

“I know-”

 

“With you sucking all of the oxygen out of the air, it’s hard to function.”

 

“Hey, that’s another strike!” Hanse kicks Chan this time, just a light nudge on the calf, really.

 

“You’re the one striking me- this is abuse!”

 

“You’re abusive to me! Dragging me into arguments, making my delicate feet walk on such garish pavement all the way to your house!”

 

“Psh- Oh, you wanna crash by the way?” Chan digresses to a more pressing topic.

 

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to do my place, but since we got  _ dumped here _ -”

 

“Okay-”

 

“Because of  _ someone- _ ”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Guess I’ll take your hospitality!”

 

“Good!” Chan makes a show of huffing and crossing arms. “I hope you do!”

 

“I mean it’s no mansion-”

 

“Hey! That’s not fair.”

 

“-and you’re not as cute as Subinnie-”

  
“-Also not fair! Subin is- is cute.” Chan’s cheer sort of breaks a bit, alarming Hanse immediately. He turns to actually look at the other with a quirked eyebrow.  _ Why did he hesitate there? _ Of course, by the time he glances at his friend’s face, Chan already looks normal.

 

“Subin’s the cutest,” Hanse says. It’s masked as a joking comment, but he uses it to pry a bit. Is it something about Subin? Does Chan not like Subin? Or is the alcohol just making Hanse overly suspicious?

 

Chan chuckles, looking Hanse in the eye with a grin,“ _ You’re _ the cutest.” 

 

Suspicious. Hanse was definitely over suspicious, he decides. Chan reaches out suddenly, pinching Hanse’s cheek.

 

Hanse’s face scrunches as he laughs,“Ow! Who said you could touch me?! Lowly peasant…”

 

Laughter echoes across the empty street as the two meander at a sluggish pace toward Chan’s house. Their bodies joggle and jerk with every little push, tickle, and jab they afflict on one another. All the while, a sweet buzz settles into Hanse’s veins. He can tell it’s not just alcohol - it’s more than that. The tickling sensation courses throughout his entire body. Contented happiness. He wishes he could bottle it or bathe in it, but he knows it’s fleeting. It’ll fade eventually. Maybe it’ll last until he falls asleep or until the mood changes. He doesn’t know.

 

All he does know is that he wishes life could be like this all the time: a warm summer evening, a belly full of food and liquor, a precious person and a full night ahead of him. It’s like an ideal existence. Even if only for a little bit, Hanse relishes in the feeling for as long as he can.

 

* * *

_ Huh Gak’s… Huh Gak’s…  _

 

Seungwoo tosses the name around in his head like it’s some crazy, foreign tongue. He’s bored. He’s beyond bored. He’d gone for a jog, he’d played games, he’d napped, worked out  _ more…  _ Seungwoo’s afraid that if he adds any more exercise into his days, he’s going to start burning muscle. The sun has just started setting, and his stomach grumbles, crying out for much needed sustenance. 

 

When he had traipsed over to his tiny pantry, Seungwoo was given a stark reminder that he hadn’t grocery shopped. There’s a small local grocer along the square, but it’s nothing compared to the expansive places he’s used to. He’d looked up to see where the nearest supermarket is, but it’s a fifteen minute drive away.

 

Fifteen minutes. In a  _ car _ . In city travel time that’s insane.

 

By the time Seungwoo had gathered the motivation to shop at the local spot, it had been closed. Hence, he had found himself face to face with a pathetically dismal pantry.

 

_ Huh Gak’s, the tavern on the corner. _ Seungwoo had remembered. The baker told him that the food was good, and he was in need of good food. He figures the options wouldn’t be healthy, but he could regret it later. With all the calories he’s burning from sheer boredom, he may just keep his six-pack yet.

 

Reluctantly, Seungwoo sits up in his bed. Newfound determination sets into his bones: he’s gonna check out the tavern. He imagines it’s sort of a dive, but it’ll break the tedium at least a little. His t-shirt is sort of crumpled from lazing around in bed, and his sweats ran a tad too far up his ankle (he’d had them since high school). 

 

_ Meh. Good enough. _ He decides. If he was still in the city he’d put at least some effort in, but out here in the country? He gets the impression that dark jeans are considered flashy around town.

 

Hoisting his body up off of bed, Seungwoo grabs his wallet and phone. He checks his reflection in a mirror he’d hung on the wall and concludes that he is looking like his most okayest self. With a shrug, he strides out the door, nearly forgetting to lock it behind himself.

 

Stepping out into the evening air, Seungwoo passes through an invisible threshold of sticky humidity. It’s clear that the sun had busied itself roasting the earth beneath it all day, and it had finally just started to retire. Still, remains of the sticky day linger in the air stubbornly like a reminder that a long summer is ahead of them. Seungwoo takes a deep breath before descending the fire escape. Even though his steps are behind a building, it doesn’t smell like trash or grime. The scent of the trees along the square drift into his nose along with a sharp note of grass clippings. Not bad. That is one thing Seungwoo has to give the sleepy town: it’s clean. There’s no trash blowing in the wind, and it doesn’t reek of car exhaust or wet asphalt. Crickets replace the honking car horns and frogs the ambulance alarms.

 

Seungwoo sighs as he reaches the sidewalk, glancing across the square. It’s not quite closing time (which ranges between seven and nine he’d learned), but a few of the retail shops are already sweeping up front. Newvoice Bakery is one of the few places that’s already completely closed. Apparently, it closes at five on Saturdays. 

 

_ I hope that baker left already _ , Seungwoo thinks. He sees him there all the time. It’s excessive, really. He almost pities the guy, but based on his personal experience, working can’t be much worse than being bored at home. He wonders: what does the baker do in his spare time? He’s just around Seungwoo’s age, but it’s not like there’s any clubs or even PC bangs around. Maybe he games at home - or does he not game at all?

 

Seungwoo decides to ditch the line of thought, searching the opposite side of the square for the tavern he’d been told about. He finds it quickly - it’s pretty conspicuous. It’s one of the few places with neon signage, and there are actually people in the vicinity. A few small clusters and cliques stand outside, smoke twirling up from their cigarettes. As he gets closer, Seungwoo hears a steady beat, muffled through the windows. 

 

The city boy keeps his head down as he approaches, hoping people don’t look at him like some sort of pariah because he’s new around there and alone. The last thing he needs is some rando trying to spark a conversation. He’d already gotten it a lot, and he’s pretty sick of it. Yes, he’d tell them, I’m new. He basically has a script at this point, a list of things to rattle off until people leave him the heck alone.

 

Stepping into the tavern, some decades old music echoes in the space. It seems pretty small, but not claustrophobic. Cozy, almost. Booths line the walls, and between it and the bar a few cab tables. Almost everything is dark wood and that, combined with the dim lighting and candles lit at the center of tables, makes the entire place wrap around a person. A couple of TVs are mounted to the wall, and a football game is playing. It’s not a gentle hug like the bakery but more of a thick, thick blanket. The smell of fried food and smoke floats into his nose, and even though he keeps a strict diet, the fried chicken makes Seungwoo’s mouth water. 

 

Anxiously, Seungwoo approaches the bar. He swears he remembers being told that the place does takeout. He prays it does, because he’s not about to sit down and eat alone. It’s not that he minds it -on the contrary, he quite likes it. It’s just that, for some reason, people seem to think a lone diner at a bar is inviting them to join. It’s annoying! Seungwoo’s tried to dine and drink alone with a book, but more often than not he ends up getting roped into uncomfortable small talk. Or worse, getting hit on. 

 

A husky man probably thirty-ish years old stands behind the bar, tapping away at a POS system. He wears a flannel and an apron is tied around his waist. Another person works the bar with him, a young, pretty woman. 

 

The newcomer taps his fingers on the counter, eyes darting around awkwardly. Luckily, his wait isn’t too long, and after handing off a ticket to the other bartender, the older gentleman turns to Seungwoo.

 

“Evening,” He says genially, a warm smile on his face. “You’re new here, huh?”

 

_ Oh joy _ , Seungwoo groans internally,  _ here it comes. _

 

“Yup,” Seungwoo replies curtly. 

 

“I think I’ve heard whisperings of a new kid in town. You’re doing hours at the Healing Center, right?”

 

_ New kid in town? What is this, a movie?! _ It more than sort of irks Seungwoo that a complete stranger knows where he works. Apparently, it’s written on his face, because the guy elaborates.

 

“A lot of the girls stop by after work,” He tells Seungwoo.

 

_ Oh, right. This is, like, the spot. My seniors probably come here all the time…  _ He starts to wonder what they’ve said about him.

 

“They’ve mentioned me?” Seungwoo asks, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s prying. 

 

The man chuckles mirthfully, “Only good things, I promise.”

 

“Good to know,” Seungwoo replies politely. 

 

“Oh- The name’s Huh Gak, by the way,” The man - Huh Gak - finally introduces himself.

 

_ Named the place after yourself? Modest. _ “Um, Seungwoo,” He nods deeply in hopes that it’s respectful enough.

 

“Nice to meet you, Seungwoo. What brings you in tonight?”

 

“I, um, I heard you had pretty good food to take home…”  _ Why do I suddenly have regrets? _

 

“Well, you heard right. Usually people call ahead, but it shouldn’t take too long. Fifteen minutes tops,” Huh Gak slides a long menu his way. Seungwoo scans the menu which is packed with all types of typical anju: bulgoki, ramyun, rice, wings, and a bunch of other sides. The student purses his lips as he studies it, thinking of the least offensive thing possible. It’s not that it doesn’t sound delicious - it all does - but he tries to keep himself within his diet as much as possible.

 

_ It’s the weekend, isn’t it? I guess I can splurge a bit on calories… _ “Um, may I have the fried chicken to go, please?”

 

“I’ll put that right in for you,” The bartender says jovially. “Would you like a drink while you’re waiting?”

 

Seungwoo opens his mouth to say no, but suddenly something crops up in the corner of his eye. He glances over to the far end of the bar. There’s not a lot of people at the bar proper - most of them have nestled themselves into booths or crowded around high tables. Just one person sits at the far end, kind of alone, isolated from the world. With how the lights are set up, that far corner is sort of cast in shadow. He sits in his little corner of the world, head propped up on his hand as he looks at his laptop screen idly. The blue-white light reflects off of his glasses in tiny, glowing squares on the lenses. His lips hang open ever so slightly, and his hair falls onto his forehead. It’s the baker.

 

“Yeah, I’ll have a beer.”

  
_ Wait, what?! _ It’s too late by the time Seungwoo realizes what he’d actually said. Huh Gak is smiling at him, adding his drink to the ticket and telling the young lady beside him to serve the man. The world moves in slow motion, and Seungwoo stands paralyzed in a daze until the aforementioned beer slams down onto the bar in front of him.

  
“Here you go,” The young lady says. 

 

“Thanks,” Seungwoo replies politely. He grabs his beer, glancing over at the end of the bar again.

 

The baker, Seungsik, seems pretty much in his own world. Interrupting him would be rude. Right? Or would it be more rude to totally ignore him - after all, they are acquaintances. Sort of. So maybe their association is more like a badly suppressed one-sided infatuation on Seungwoo’s part, but the baker doesn’t know that!  _ What  _ does _ he think? _ Seungwoo wonders.

 

“Oh, Seungsik. You know him?” The bartender - Huh Gak - interrupts Seungwoo’s musings.

 

“Wh- Oh, I, um- I see him at the bakery.”

 

“Ah, of course. The guy’s a genius with a dough. I tried to steal him for a bit, actually… Didn’t work out, though!” Huh Gak chuckles. 

 

“Hm,” Seungwoo grunts in response. He isn’t sure if he’s really a part of the conversation, or if Huh Gak just likes talking.

 

“A nice kid, though. If you’re new in town, getting in with him isn’t a bad idea,” The bartender lowers his voice, smirking, “You’ll get lots of free baked goods out of it.”

 

_ That is the exact opposite of what I need in my life. _ After his unfortunate little jolt of static electricity, Seungwoo had mulled over his brief encounters with the baker for, well, longer than he’d like to admit. The coffee at the bakery is good, and stopping by also let him do some further research into his weird… Itch. He’d concluded that the baker’s weird magnetism has less to do with individual charm than it does Seungwoo’s bored loneliness. Yup. He’d decided to be friendly, but not friends, per se. Befriending the baker would give Seungwoo two things he definitely does not need in his life:

  
Carbohydrates and baggage.

 

“Heh- Well, it’s probably not nice to exploit someone for their baking skills.”

 

“You made any other friends around here yet?” Huh Gak asks. Seungwoo raises his eyebrows, a bit taken aback by the brazen question. It’s probably not meant to sound so blunt, but it definitely comes across that way. It almost sounds like a challenge, like he’s saying, “you probably can’t make any friends around here if you can’t even make nice with the damn baker”. 

 

Seungwoo’s lips pout unconsciously, and he glances over to Seungsik again, “I’m still just getting to know everyone.”

 

“Of course,” The barkeep answers, “Well, I’m going to check on orders. Grab one of us if you need anything!” With that, he disappears through a door leading into the kitchen behind the bar. 

 

Seungwoo is alone again.

 

The cool condensation against his fingertips reminds him that he’d mindlessly ordered a beer. He frowns at the frothy head of the bubbling amber liquid, heaving a sigh. Defeatedly, he takes a gulp. Bitterness fills his mouth. The sharp, puckering sensation smacks him around a bit, waking up his senses.

 

Seungwoo’s eyes drift over to the edge of the bar again.

 

He’s bored. So damn bored. He’s been bored, and it’s been, what, between one and two weeks? Despite what logic tells him, the idea plants itself in his head: maybe, just maybe, making friends with someone wouldn’t be so bad. The baker seems pretty busy, so it’s not like he’d get harassed at all hours of the day. Just a drinking buddy, or someone to talk about football with would be cool. Plus, knowing someone can help make navigating town and the vast, verdant expanse beyond it a bit less daunting.

  
_ Screw that bartender _ , Seungwoo tells himself.  _ I’ll show him that I can make friends. _

 

Seungwoo throws on the most aloof exterior he possibly can as he saunters over to the end of the bar. He’s done this move a zillion times - the nonchalant, cool swagger. It’s like walking but with purpose. The move just enough to let someone know that he’s there without yelling it. He occupies the space and tells them, nonverbally, that  _ he _ knows  _ they’re _ occupying the space, too. When the tension finally mounts to become too unbearable, the other person almost always cracks. If they don’t, it’s usually because they’re too drunk to notice.

 

_ He’ll probably take a second since he’s on his laptop _ , Seungwoo reminds himself as he slides into the spot next to Seungsik.

 

Seungsik’s eyes remain fixed on his laptop almost tiredly. Seungwoo sort of wants to snoop, but resists the temptation - it’s not like it matters anyway. Instead, the student watches the football game on. He sips his beer casually and even looks down at his phone. 

 

Without warning, a few minutes pass by without a single word. Seungwoo actually blinks with pique.

  
_ Wait, has he really not… Noticed?  _ Seungwoo, brows furrowed, looks at the guy sitting beside him. The baker yawns tiredly, completely oblivious. He knocks back a gulp of his own beer before going back to his laptop.

 

_ There’s someone right next to you - how do you not notice?! _ Seungwoo has been the one to initiate contact every time before, he’d wanted it to maybe be the other way around for once. (Never mind that the contact initiated is fumbled retail interactions.) Patience dwindling, Seungwoo starts contemplating how he’s gonna amble over to the opposite side of the bar without humiliating himself. He sure as heck didn’t saunter over to be ignored, and just standing there exerts the familiar pressure of anxiety against his chest. Suddenly, he becomes overly conscious of how weird it is to go to one side of the bar, then back to the other with no meaningful purpose. For some reason, Seungwoo feels weirdly watched, and the thought of someone noticing the weird action fills him with dread.

 

“H-hey,” Seungwoo chokes out all of a sudden. He snaps his lips shut, and his eyes even go wide; he’d surprised even himself by speaking up. At the very least, he doesn’t go ignored. The baker stirs, eyebrows rising as he turns his head. Seungwoo can see the look of surprise dawn on the other’s features.

 

“Oh,” Is the first thing the baker says. “O-Oh, um, hi.” He sits up straighter and turns his body slightly. 

 

“Hi,” Seungwoo replies, and he swears his voice squeaks a bit. Crap. “Sorry to interrupt, I just… Saw a familiar face.” It’s a good enough explanation, he thinks. After all, he is new in town (a fact that is apparently branded on his forehead or something).

 

“N-no you’re fine,” The baker says, flashing a small grin. Even though it’s just a tiny gesture out of courtesy, it’s stunning. Something about his smile is really captivating.  “I see you took my advice,” He sounds almost smug - except, there’s no way a guy like that would be smug. Right? The baker is so damn disarming, Seungwoo finds it hard to believe he’d say or do anything that wasn’t nice.

 

“Yeah, well, you’re a few doors down. If anyone knows what they’re talking about it’s you, right?”

 

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” Seungsik chuckles. It’s surprisingly low - actually, his entire voice is. Looking at him, Seungwoo would never have thought his voice would be like that. “Me, always being right.”

 

“Hey, I never said that,” Seungwoo quips back. “I have yet to see if you’re right about this place.”

 

“Oh, I will be. But I’ll let you find that out for yourself. What’d you get.”

 

Seungwoo shrugs, “Just fried chicken.”

 

“Yum,” Seungsik hums, “Can’t go wrong with that. Ugh, I haven’t had his fried chicken in forever…” He pouts, and it’s adorable.

 

“No? What do you usually get?”

 

“Lately? Just sides and a drink. Beer is enough of a splurge for me. Everything’s good, though.”

 

“A splurge? Are you on a diet?”  _ Wait- that’s not appropriate to ask!  _ Seungwoo curses himself for prying all of a sudden.

 

The baker seems just as taken aback, blinking a few times before answering. His cheeks flush a little.

 

“Y-yeah. I mean, not, like, anything special. Just. Healthy.”

 

“Huh,” Seungwoo nods, taking a sip of his beer. “That’s good. I’d have thought since you were a baker you wouldn’t be so healthy.”

 

“Because- what? Do you think I sustain myself on sweets?” Seungsik’s brows furrow slightly. That’s not a good sign. Seungwoo wonders if he offended him. He doesn’t see why; it was a compliment. 

 

“I don’t know,” He answers sheepishly with a shrug. Even though his words had been innocent, he feels weirdly embarrassed in hindsight. “I- I guess I just figured dedicating your life to, like, carbohydrates, sugars, and fat would imply that you ate a lot.”

 

“Wow,” Seungsik looks genuinely awed.  _ What? What did I say? _ “That’s an… Interesting take on the baking profession.”

 

“But is it inaccurate?” Seungwoo is weirdly determined to come out on top. He’s not sure when they entered a battle of wills, but he’s not about to lose.

 

“I don’t think anyone who goes into a culinary profession consciously thinks: ‘wow, I can’t wait to dedicate my life to carbohydrates’.”

 

“Swap out carbohydrates for bread, proteins for barbecue.”

 

“What is it you do again?” Seungsik swerves the conversation, and honestly Seungwoo’s glad. 

 

“Physical therapy - well, almost. Still doing clinic hours-”

 

“Does anyone ever tell you your job is just a dedication to recovering muscle tissue and tendons?”

 

“Well, I mean, there’s a psychological aspect, not to mention the chemical reactions that-”

 

“Wow, okay, nevermind.”

 

“What? I’m answering your question.”

 

“You’re a bit obsessive, aren’t you?”

 

“About health? Yeah.”

 

“Compulsive, too.”

 

_ That doesn’t sound like a compliment. _ Seungwoo’s mood darkens, but whether out of boredom or desperation, he keeps talking.

 

“Whoa, that’s a strong word, don’t you think?” The student quips back. He fingers the rim of his glass, eyes briefly fixating on the frothy residue left on his downed beer.

 

“S-sorry. You just seem like the blunt type, figured you could take it,” Seungsik backpedals with an awkward chuckle. It’s like he wants to be savage but can’t commit. That’s adorable. Seungwoo’s so used to people being unabashedly cold and cutting. It surprises him that the other even apologized at all.

 

_ Well, he’s not wrong _ , Seungwoo has to concede. He still feels a little sore from the misplaced jab, but shakes it off. What does he care if some irrelevant local thinks he’s a bit too anal retentive? He’s gonna be gone in three months time anyways. 

 

“Okay, okay. I see you, baker,” Seungwoo replies. “So there’s some spice to curb that sweetness.” Immediately, nerves plunge Seungwoo’s heart down to his feet. Did he really just say “spice to curb that sweetness”? That’s not even a  _ good  _ line. Heck, it’s not even kinda good. To make matters worse, some drippy ballad comes on, and the realization that he’s inadvertently flirting with the damn baker makes Seungwoo want to disappear more. He ventures a glance sideways and the baker looks just as awestricken as the student feels. Great. Seungsik looks like he’s at a loss for words, and Seungwoo can’t even blame him. He’s pretty sure if someone dropped that kind of comment on him, he’d just up and walk away. He needs to recover. Fast. Or else he’ll never be able to look the baker in the eye (which would be a damn shame since the bakery makes a good cup of coffee).

 

Fumbling, Seungwoo starts rambling, “S-sorry, I, um- That was-”  _ Great. You’re doing great, Seungwoo. _ “I didn’t mean it like- to sound greasy, I just was surprised. You have a nice face.”  _ It got worse. I made it worse! _ “Like- like kind. You look kind. Not that you have, like, a nice face.”

 

The baker bemusedly quirks an eyebrow, “So I don’t have a nice face?”

 

“Exactly,” Seungwoo nods, relieved.

 

The relief lasts for a blissful millisecond before he realizes what he’d implied.

 

“Wait, wait, no- I didn’t mean it like that. I meant- You seem nice. You. Seem. Nice. Sweet. Because of your face it’s very… Disarming.” That’s a better word, and he’s relieved when he finally finds it in his vocabulary.

 

“Disarming?” The baker looks more puzzled than anything at this point.

 

“Yeah. Disarming. Approachable.”

 

“Hm,” Is all the baker says.

 

It’s Seungwoo’s turn to be confused, and his brows knit together in puzzlement at the baker’s weird response. He locks up a bit, his body tensing and even turning slightly away. Seungsik does not want to talk anymore. 

_   
_ _ What did I say now? _ Seungwoo wonders when the last time flirting had ever exhausted him so much. He quickly dashes the thought from his head, reminding himself that he’s not flirting. He’s not. Any flirtatious behavior was accidental and unintentional. Period. End of story. He needs a friend, not an emotional ball and chain. Never mind that the guy next to him makes him weirdly nervous and lowkey a jumbled mess - he lives in the middle of nowhere. It’s not meant to be! The guy’s probably boring anyways. At the very least, he seems weirdly sensitive.

 

“That’s not a bad thing,” Seungwoo elaborates, hoping to pick up the shattered pieces of his attempted friendliness. 

 

“Right, I get that,” Seungsik answers coldly. The frigidity makes a chill run down Seungwoo’s spine. What changed? The baker’s eyes return to his laptop.

 

Seungwoo downs the rest of his beer before responding, “What’s your problem, then?”  _ Die! Die! Die! Why don’t you just die, Han Seungwoo! Just end it now!  _ He’s fairly certain he’s suffering whiplash from his own impulsive, stupid words.

 

The baker blinks a few times indignantly before turning to Seungwoo again. He opens his mouth to say something, but a loud, chipper bark from behind the bar interrupts both of them.

 

“Fried chicken!” Huh Gak pops in to save the day, affable smile blossoming on his face. Seungwoo eyes the tied off bundle of plastic bags like a drowning man eyes a lifeline.

 

“Thank you,” Seungwoo blurts out, snatching the parcel quickly. He mutters something like a “goodbye” in his wake but doesn’t even look behind him as he bolts out of the tavern. Truthfully, he can’t bear to see the look on Seungsik’s face. Hopefully, nobody overheard them.

 

Seungwoo tunnels on the sight of his building across the square. If he didn’t have food in his hands, he’d have probably actually been running. Alas, the fragrant package in his hand necessitates some semblance of care. After a trot that feels way too long, Seungwoo reaches the steps of his apartment. He takes two at a time, and sweat drops down the back of his neck when he finally reaches the top.

 

_ Han Seungwoo… What is wrong with you? Why can’t you just be nice for once? _ He laments as he lets himself in. 

 

Pouting, the student sets his table for food, mulling over the entire little encounter. It’s not like he’d said anything that bad. Sure, he’d maybe accidentally flirted a little, but he can’t help it! Sometimes, things just come out naturally, they feel right. And so what if he’d called the baker approachable? Why had that warranted such coldness on the other’s part? Is being approachable an insult or something? Maybe he’s just overly sensitive. That seems more proper in Seungwoo’s eyes.  _ Yeah _ , he thinks,  _ that guy is probably easily insulted. Ugh. How annoying. _

 

So much for making friends around here.

 

After his brief foray into the small town’s social life, Seungwoo decides: it’s not for him. He cedes that, ultimately, he’s destined to have a rather solitary few months - and that’s fine. He’s always been independent, and people just bother him half the time, anyways. Even his friends in the city get on his nerves after a while.

 

_ What if this is a time for detox? _ He wonders to himself. The concept sounds appealing. It’s almost like a working wilderness retreat. Learning by day and relaxing, alone, at night? Some people pay lots of money and travel far to do stuff like that.

 

_ Yup, we’re going with that, _ Seungwoo decides. No people, no distractions. Just him and work. A weird pang of pain stubbornly clings to the inside of his chest, but he convinces himself that it’s nothing. 

 

He’s flying solo, and nothing’s gonna change that.

 

* * *

Sejun yawns, blinking away the tears that well up in his eyes. The wetness blurs the black terminal on his screen, making the white, fuchsia, and lime green text smear into neon splotches. After getting home, he’d decided to grind out some work - just some quick CSS for a client’s website, nothing drastic. As a freelancer, he sets his own hours, and time  _ is  _ money. He glances at the clock widget on his right monitor; “11:38” it displays.

 

“Guess Sik is passed out,” Sejun shrugs to himself. He stretches out a bit. His limbs feel the need to remind him that he’d spent the day swimming, (light) drinking, and generally dicking around.  _ Thanks for that _ , he thinks in passing. 

 

“Ding!”

 

Suddenly, his phone lights up. Sejun’s jaw drops when he sees who had sent the message. 

  
“So you didn’t pass out,” He mutters as he opens his messenger app.

 

[Sikie]: yo quick question

 

Sejun raises a notched brow and taps out his response:

 

(You): im surprised ur up

 

[Sikie]: spent the evening at huh gaks

[Sikie]: went home. Got in a few rounds of lol

 

“Huh,” Sejun grunts in surprise as he types back.

 

(You): what’s up?

 

[Sikie]: i know this is weird but like

[Sikie]: what does it mean when someone describes u as… disarming?

 

(You): disarming??

 

[Sikie]: yea disarming

[Sikie]: approachable

 

(You): well maybe it means that person thinks youre… disarming and approachable? XD

 

[Sikie]: XD

 

(You): what?? What do you expect?? 

(You): did someone just like approach you and say these things?

(You): i need context here lol

 

[Sikie]: i was sitting at the bar on my laptop, per usual

 

“Lucky,” Sejun chuckles as he reads. He’s admittedly very jealous that Huh Gak gives the sacred wifi password to Seungsik. It’s not like it’s a PC cafe. Sejun figures that’s the “you and your family have been neighbors, friends, and patrons for literal decades” perk, though.  _ Still. Lucky. _

 

[Sikie]: and someone approaches me and uh

[Sikie]: yeah they said i looked nice. Approachable.

 

(You): disarming?

 

[Sikie]: they pretty emphatically used those words. Approachable and disarming.

 

(You): i can tell. They’ve imprinted on you heavily LOL

 

[Sikie]: ok but like why would you just. Say that to someone at a bar like.

[Sikie]: do u think its sarcastic…?

 

(You): do u think they were trying to pick you up?

 

[Sikie]: i think not…

[Sikie]: though they DID say something else

 

(You): ???

 

[Sikie]: it’s rly embarrassing actually

 

(You): youre killing me here

 

[Sikie]: i want to die just remembering it. Idk i said smth and they said back

[Sikie]: “guess you’ve got some spice to curb that sweetness.”

 

(You): YIKES

(You): how old was this person!?

 

[Sikie]: too young to be saying stuff like that

 

(You): LOL

(You): well i mean if theyre dropping lines like that, they def trying to flirt

 

[Sikie]: disarming

 

(You): approachable - yes, i remember XD

(You): did the disarming approachable come before or after the line?

 

[Sikie]: why does it matter??

 

(You): it definitely matters!

(You): if its before, they were like ramping up to flirting 

(You): if its after, maybe they were trying to let off the gas a bit

 

[Sikie]: let off the gas?

 

(You): IDK WHAT WAS GOING ON I AM JUST GUESSING HERE

(You): look, my logic is this:

(You): if i want to flirt/compliment someone without being TOO greasy

(You): maybe id say more… idk weird stuff like “disarming” “approachable”

 

[Sikie]: as opposed to what?

[Sikie]: like is that REALLY a compliment?

 

(You): YES!

(You): someone shameless would go straight for “hot” or “sexy” or idk

(You): “what that mouth do” lmao

 

[Sikie]: omg shut up

 

(You): im serious! 

(You): this person sounds sincere but also like

(You): terribly awkward

 

[Sikie]: idk he doesnt strike me as the awkward type

 

(You): im less concerned with this person and more curious abt summ else

 

[Sikie]: ??

 

(You): ur into this person arent you :^)

 

[Sikie]: wat

 

(You): why else would u be agonizing over these random comments?

 

[Sikie]: bc theyre WEIRD. Who hits on someone by saying theyre approachable?

 

(You): so you acknowledge that he WAS hitting on you

 

[Sikie]: I DONT KNOW 

[Sikie]: hE WAS PROBABLY BORED?

 

(You): wow thats a very

(You): spicy take

 

[Sikie]: shut up

 

(You): i mean you even TEXTED ME about it

(You): this dude hot or what??

 

[Sikie]: or what

 

(You): fine be that way

(You): mr approachable

 

[Sikie]: yup thats me

[Sikie]: kang “approachable, disarming” seungsik

[Sikie]: :::)))

 

(You): u say it like its a bad thing

 

[Sikie]: mmm yes

[Sikie]: disarming and approachable

[Sikie]: i stay up at night dreaming to be called such things by a handsome man

 

(You): so he WAS handsome?? 

 

[Sikie]: the point

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: you

 

(You): u kno it wouldnt KILL u to take a compliment

 

[Sikie]: was it rly a compliment?

 

(You): YES

(You): i mean probably. I dont kno that mans life story but ffs just TAKE IT AS ONE

 

[Sikie]: k fine 

[Sikie]: im very approachable

[Sikie]: and disarming

[Sikie]: put that on my grave

 

(You): omg

 

Sejun starts to type: “this really got under your skin, didn’t it?” - but he doesn’t. It seems a bit tactless. If Seungsik wants to tell someone something, he will. Him being weird and roundabout regarding the whole thing just means he’s not ready to talk. Who knows, Sejun thinks, maybe he’ll just get over this over night. He knows that Seungsik’s got some hang ups about his looks (who doesn’t?), but it’s not a subject the two like to pore over. Every drunken realtalk session they’ve had where feelings and insecurities come up, it always boils down to the same general conversation: “You’re really good looking, you should think better of yourself.” “No  _ you’re  _ good looking.  _ You  _ should think better of yourself.” “If I was into you, I’d have married you by now.” “Damn, we’re so awesome what are we worried about anyways?”

 

It bums Sejun out that such a little comment seems to be setting Seungsik off so bad, but if Sik doesn’t wanna talk, he’s not gonna. Sejun doesn’t like to push that stuff anyways.

 

(You): look i will say this one (1) last time

(You): and u can choose to take it or not but:

(You): that person is just trying to compliment you - probably in a non-greasy, atypical way

(You): i mean they failed EPICLY but it seems like an attempt was made?

 

[Sikie]: well

[Sikie]: nevermind

[Sikie]: ima melt into my bed until i pass out

[Sikie]: pce 

 

(You): gn

 

Messages cease after that. Sejun heaves a sigh. His lips purse in vexation as he tosses the weird conversation around in his head. Did Seungsik  _ want  _ him to say it’s an insult? Maybe he has some idea in his head, and he’d wanted it corroborated. Even though Sejun can’t figure out what Seungsik had wanted, he already knows what his old friend is feeling.

 

Seungsik has been hearing that he’s cute, adorable, friendly, looks sweet, looks kind, loveable, and, yes, disarming. Sejun knows very well that his friend is sick of it. He keeps telling Sik that there’s nothing wrong with being perceived as cute, but it doesn’t really help. Usually, Seungsik is fine with it. He genuinely appreciates the compliments, really. Just sometimes, when he’s feeling a bit low, it gets to him more than it should.

 

Sejun gets it - people have treated his friend differently because of it. Maybe not badly, but differently. Old women dote on him (some have even squeezed his cheeks without asking) and kids flock to him when he’s at the bakery window. High school girls swoon over him, much to the displeasure of the guys tailing them. Sik gets carded  _ constantly  _ when they go out of town to party (something Sejun begrudges because it makes him feel old).

 

It’s not always so well-intentioned, though. During highschool, Sejun always overheard people saying Seungsik was “too nice”. He was “too cute” - because apparently that’s a thing to high schoolers. Someone can be “too cute”. A lot of people talked crap about him. A guy with some cute mannerisms who knew how to bake? The world must be ending! At least, they acted like it. They’d whisper about how he wasn’t manly at all.  Seungsik even got likened to a potato; of course, he took it well.

 

Sejun supposes that’s around the time that Seungsik started hating his affable image. During the years when boys supposedly turn to men, people kept treating him like a child. As he got older, the weight on Sik just seemed to stack, too. Coming out, taking over the bakery… He seems to feel pressured more than ever to be the quintessential man. Whether it’s right or not, Seungsik seems to feel like being adorable undermines that or something. Sejun disagrees  _ vehemently _ , but he can’t stop his friend from feeling how he does. He’s pretty sure he’d hate being called cute, too, if people used it as an excuse to treat him a certain way.

 

“What are we gonna do with you?” Sejun asks rhetorically, staring at his phone. 

 

“Ding!” 

  
Sejun gasps, shocked for a second before realizing the message isn’t a surprise follow up from Seungsik. A massive grin spreads across the programmer’s face when he reads it:

 

[Subinie]: thanks for driving me again

[Subinie]: i havent had that much fun in a long time

[Subinie]: thank you~ <3

 

“You are very welcome,” Sejun mutters as he types out those very words. 

 

Cricket songs echo in through his cracked windows, and with them the slightly damp, fragrant night air. Sejun sighs, rolling his desk chair over to the standing fan by his bedroom door. Even though it’s not that late, it’s like all of his energy is sapped from his body at once. His shoulders sag, and he weakly tiptoes his chair back over to his desk. Another body seizing yawn overtakes his body, and with that he decides that it’s definitely time to sleep. With the way his loose tank top stickily clings to his torso, he can already tell: it’s gonna be a hot summer.

 

**Author's Note:**

> // This is a work of fiction and is meant to be read as such. Thank you for reading!  
> Chikabow is an angel for beta-ing <3


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